


Don't Bite the Hand That Feeds You

by FoxyEgg



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: (it's touched on lightly that Daryl suffered from alcoholism in the past), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Daryl Dixon, But He Gets Better, Child Death, Child Murder, Childhood Trauma, Daryl suffers, Daryl worrying a lot, First Kiss, Hallucinations, Hershel's Farm, Hurt Daryl Dixon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lori being agreeable and p cool tbh, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Occasionally beta'd by me, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Prison Era Too, Rick has more staying power than a bedbound gorilla on a hot day, Rick suffers, Rick's just trying his best man, Season 2 (The Walking Dead), Season 3 (The Walking Dead), Shane's a bitch tho, Slow Burn, Smut, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, This is a twd fic what did you expect?, Top Rick Grimes, Trying to make this a moderate slow burn, but like that's life, graphic depictions of child birth, gratuitous amounts of foreplay, hardly described masturbation, just sometimes, like jesus christ, like lighting a fire with wet logs, smut in chapter 34 you dirty dogs, some people die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 88,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyEgg/pseuds/FoxyEgg
Summary: AU- Canon Divergence story where Daryl and Merle never meet the group at the quarry, but instead at the farm. Daryl is alone and helps Sophia and boom, Daryl meets the group. Everything is the same besides for only Jim being dead.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Lori Grimes/ Shane Walsh (background), Maggie Greene/ Glenn Rhee (background)
Comments: 249
Kudos: 213





	1. Stranger Danger Kiddo

**Author's Note:**

> Original title: I love your brain and your face is pretty too I guess.
> 
> Both titles courtesy of my mom. 
> 
> So, I'm not done with TWD, I'm only on s5 ep16 so bare with me. I really liked when they were at the farm, don't know why. I have a good amount (like two more) chapters lined up so expect a small jump in updates until I run out of those.
> 
> Uh- enjoy?

It was cold as the dew stuck thickly to Daryl's arms. He was fucking freezing! It was dark and mushy, the early hour light just setting in. The mist both aided in cover and destroyed Daryl's line of sight. Crossbow in hand, finger on the trigger, sweat trickling in his eye.

Two blind freaks waddled through tall grass, neither noticed when Daryl skidded behind a tree. Two un-observant freaks will be no problem for a silent but deadly bolt right to the brain. Readying his crossbow, Daryl was a second away from shooting the suckers in the head before another ten showed their ugly mugs through the fog. Quickly letting go of the trigger, he tucked the crossbow close to his body as he chewed his lip.

A growl suddenly erupted from behind Daryl. Spinning on his heels, the grotesque freak jumped on him, sending him sprawling on the ground. The other freaks wandered over at the commotion.

"Fuck-", Daryl hissed as the freaks piled onto him, four of them reaching out and growling.

_ Would be so much simpler if Merle was here _ .

Before he could go down that dark path, Daryl used both of his legs to kick the freaks off of him, stabbing them in the eyes quickly before they could get up and recover.

Spinning, he was met with the sight of a rotting face staring back at him. Stabbing the freak, Daryl retreated to get his crossbow, using his three shots to take down three freaks. Two were left and he was tired. No knife and no more shots, Daryl used the butt of the crossbow to whack one in the head, stunning it while he went for the other. Knocking it to the ground once he hit it's head twice, Daryl stomped on it till a wet squelch sounded. Digging an arrow out of a freaky's head, Daryl reloaded as fast as he could and shot behind his back once he felt the cold breath on his neck.

Standing tall, he quickly deflated and breathed out harsh puffs of air, running a hand through short hair. A small, high-pitched scream came from behind him. Didn't sound like a freak, nor did the air smell like rot.

Slowly, he snuck over to a bush, peering though it to see a small blonde girl doll fallen on the ground. One shot for one freak. Aiming through the leaves, Daryl fired, hitting its smack dab in it's temple. It fell forward, trapping the girl between blood and dew covered leaves.

Daryl crept out of the bush, pushing the shoulder of the freak to free the girl. She backed away on her butt, eyes still locked onto the freak. Daryl just stood there, watching her as she jumped away from a tree she backed into like a cat. She finally noticed a person was there as she stilled, watching as Daryl collected his arrow. Turning, he began to walk away but stopped as soon as he heard a crunch.

The girl was standing there with her doll clutched in her hands, eyes still wide and cheek bruised, perhaps from the freak's shoulder? Daryl furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes as he continued forward.

"Thank you," the girl finally said. Good to know she wasn't  _ too  _ traumatized.

Daryl gave a nonchalant huff.

"My names Sophia, what's your's?", she asked 

Turning back and stopping suddenly, Daryl once again scowled at her, adding in an adjustment of his crossbow strap for good measure. She slightly backed away, since she damn well near slapped into his back. She didn't recoil or even flinch at Daryl. This girls got balls.

Walking again, Daryl just quietly listened around for more freaks or better, food. The girl-  _ Sophia _ \- was still following, dry leaves crunching as she continued with Daryl. She must be either way too trusting, or that desperate to follow a stranger.

"Ever heard of stranger danger, kid," Daryl growled, grinding his teeth.

"Yea', but if you were trying to hurt me you wouldn't have said that," she answered in a calm way, even if a condescending tone slipped in.

"Touche."

Daryl and Sophia walked for a bit before she piped up again.

"I lost my Mommy," she started, but stopped once she had to hop over a fallen log. "We have food and a group. We… We could help you."

"’S not my problem."

"Please, you helped me. Can you take me back? I don't think anyone else would be nice enough to help me from another walker."

" _ Walker _ ?", Daryl paused, but recovered quickly and started walking before Sophia smacked into his back.

"Yeah, that's what Rick called them. Glenn called them  _ goons _ ," she lightly laughed. 

Daylight was finally peaking through the low clouds, making the birds begin chirping louder and the land to light up.

"Please?" Allas, she dug in more.

Flipping around, Daryl gave her a hard scowl, staring down at her as she stared back up with an equal amount of puppy eyes.

Clenching his hands, Daryl broke. " _ Fine _ ," he drawled.

Sophia fist bummed the air, quietly cheering.

"How long has it been since ya' saw your group?", Daryl asked.

"Two days?"

"'ight. Where'd 'cha run from?"

"A highway, I'm not sure," she said, shaking ever so consistent.

Pausing, Daryl considered what  _ that _ can of worms could do if opened. Trudging forward with sore feet, Daryl and the little blonde walked through the wood, hopping over rocks and tree limbs. Issue, in front of them was a huge tree shoved between two large rocks. It would be a super tight fit, but Daryl was lean and Sophia was tiny. Daryl held out a hand, going through first. As expected, it was super tight, Daryl had to stop breathing and suck in his stomach for some of the squeezing process. Sophia was next to come through. Sucking in a breath, she made her way as Daryl cept watch around, behind, and in front of the girl. 

As he turned to look for freaks- walkers now- there was a growl and a short scream from Sophia. Growling, Daryl grabbed his one arrow and shoved it in the walker's eye, grunting as he yanked it out. Sophia slipped out quickly after that, adhering herself to Daryl's leg as she cried.  _ Her face was covered in walker blood _ . Daryl picked up her dropped doll and handed it back, his arms held up high to avoid even poking the girl. He obviously wasn't good with children.

Sophia's terrified gasps were muffled by Daryl's bloodied pant leg.

"Alright," he grumbled, pushing her away, "you're gonna get blood in your mouth, kiddo." 

He carried her with both arms, but mostly his left, favoring his right to be on his crossbow. Should be a stream down here… He knows he passed it.  _ Eureka _ .

The stream was freezing but Sophia needed this blood out of her face, who knows what could happen. Tossing the red bandanna into Sophia’s face as he tied the raccoon to the strap of his small backpack.Sophia inched the bandana into Daryl’s hand. Squeezing the bandana out, pink-ish water flooded onto his hands. Shoving the thing back into his butt pocket, he carried on. 

Leaves rustled. Setting Sophia down, she backed off quickly, Daryl shuffled closer. He was hardly breathing, his heart was thumping so hard in his chest. He felt he was gonna break a rib or something.

Out jumped a raccoon with a half rotten apple in its jaws. Daryl's mind went to food and so did his stomach. Shooting the thing, he picked the arrow out of its head. Sadly, he would have to clean the skull fragments out of it before he ate it, meaning a much longer time to clean it.

Sophia whimpered, sniffing. "You killed it."

Daryl looked back, shugging. "Food is food."

She looked down, frown plastered to her face.

_ Pitty.  _ "I'll get 'chu some sort of chips or soda, yea'?" He looked back at her, sun shining in his eyes.

A small smile blossomed. "Mhm!"

She came back over, frowning at the raccoon. No warning, she leapt on his back, felt like she thought he expected it. Making a small, "oof," sound, Daryl dropped the raccoon in favor of grabbing the backs of Sophia's knees.

"Fuckin' hell-," he stopped as fast as it came out.

Looking back, Sophia was scowling. 

"Momma says no cusses."

_ Expected that _ …

"If you're gonna be there you gotta carry the food," he held up the body for effect.

"Ew," was all Sophia said before she hopped off.

"Yup."

Onward they went, walking across the shallow stream and through some trees. There was a vague trail to follow, a small parting in the trees. Finally (it had been about, twenty-something minutes), the highway was right in front of them. Food and juice was left with a message on the windshield of the car. Had Sophia's name on it which made it ten times more obvious it was meant for her. 

"Farm," Daryl mumbled.

"Hm?", Sophia made a noise as she shoved her mouth full of chips.

"Says they're at a farm," Daryl said, pointing at the message.

Sophia jumped in joy but slowed down as she realized. "Do you know where a farm is?"

"No," Daryl answered. "But we're gonna find it."

Her light grin returned and the beam of hope was back. Daryl looked at the rest of the food, this could feed him for a few days if he rationed.  _ He had to pack this _ . He didn't have a damn bag though.

He walked over to a car, opened it and checked. Nothing besides for a cigarette pack. No bag but he still felt pleased. Next car had nothing, same with the next and the next. Finally, the last car had a messenger bag in it. Only thing is that it might get mixed with his crossbow's strap. Slipping the crossbow off, he put the army green bag on, then put his weapon back onto his shoulder. Returning to the foods and drinks, He packed them, just shoving them wherever they could fit. He snagged one orange juice and walked over to the small blonde, slipping it over to her from behind his back, she half-heartedly smiled and spun the cap.

"Thank you." She didn't open the bottle.

"You good?", he asked, slowing down his pace to wait for her.

"Will we find my mommy," she passed and looked around at the trees surrounding the road, "alive?"

Pausing, Daryl shook himself. "Hell yea', I'll be damned if we don't." 

Sophia offered him a smidgen of a smile.

"Hey, kid." He held her shoulders as he crouched down. "We'll find ya' ma."

Patting her shoulder, they continued down the road. Daryl killed the occasional walker trapped under a car. It was quiet besides for the shuffle of rocks from Sophia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 11/9/20  
> Cohesive plot issues


	2. Fuckin' old coot, fuckin' cute ass kid, fuckin' BARBS-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl have fun with some more walkers (because of course), shows his might even when hurt, and gets some well deserved rest after having a panic attack. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive feedback so far! Truth be told, I've been working on fanfiction for four years and I was still worried about posting this poop. Never have posted a fic about such a beloved and big topic. Really don't wanna get caught in the middle of a ship war again, that was scary.
> 
> Anyways, I'm now on s6 ep4 and aksjsjsjakdkgkgGLENNNO- my heart is in ruins. I swear like- 
> 
> Lemme just *puts in the tag "eveyone lives/ Noone dies"* nice. 👈👈🙂

Daryl dug a little pit using his fingers. They moved a little off the highway and into the woods, not wanting to be caught by walkers- or worse- people. Sophia was watching with her knees to her chest and her doll clutched in her hands as Daryl blew on the small flame on a page from a book he found. Quickly tossing it into the pit, the flame caught on the slightly wet sticks, making a small and kinda smokey fire. 

Now that that was done, he could focus on gutting this raccoon. Sophia slightly gagged when he stuck his knife into its belly, cutting it open and digging the guts out with bare hands. Once all of the stringy bits were out, Daryl cut off the head by sawing (not the best way to cut a head off but it's all he has) and began to cut the meat off of the bones and the skin.

_ Tasty. _ He stabbed some of the small chunks onto a nearby stick and held it over the slowly growing flame. Sophia hadn't moved throughout the fifteen minutes he used to gut the raccoon. Daryl was never good with kids, he had never talked to any, if fact, he's not really good at emotions. If you can't express your own, how can you help others?

"Hey," Daryl said. "Here." He handed Sophia the stick. "Hold it over the flame, not too close."

That made her perk up a small bit. She took hold of the stick and waved it dangerously close to the flames. 

"Woah," Daryl mumbled, grabbing her hand to steady the stick and hold it just above the flame.

"Kinda like a smore," Sophia said.

"Sure," Daryl answered even though this is nothing like a small camping trip. "You got something' gnawing at your brain?"

"My mom, she's gonna be scared," Sophia said.

"Duh."

"She's always so scared," she whispered, burying her head back into her knees, the stick wavering closer to the fire.

Taking it back, Daryl held it still as he turned to look at the girl. She was curled up, scared, terrified for her mom.

"How'd you get out here anyway?", Daryl asked.

Sophia looked at him through her bangs, saying, " a herd walked through the highway. We had to stop because the RV stopped working. We were hiding under cars as the walkers went around, but one found me. I ran away and Rick came to find me, told me to stay in a bush as he killed the two that followed me. I didn't listen."

"You ran?", Daryl asked.

"Mhm. It's all my fault. Dad's gonna be so mad," she whimpered, leaning over to put her head on Daryl's arm.

Grumbling, Daryl didn't have the heart to push the girl away, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. God she was so innocent.

"Sleep," he said.

"Can you stay up and wait for my mom?", Sophia asked, looking up with wide eyes.

"Yea', yea', I will."

  
  


Jolting awake, Daryl heard gunshots ring through the air. Sophia gasped, pushing closer to Daryl's side and holding her doll close.

Sophia whispered, "could that be Mom?"

Daryl looked down at her, raising a brow.

"Could be anything."

"Lets go!", Sophia said, pulling Daryl up.

Stumbling a bit, Daryl quickly caught his footing. 

"Hey. Hey! Go behind me, girl. Don't want ‘chu dying' if that is your ma," Daryl commanded. She followed his instructions, the threat was clear in his tone.

Walking faster than normal, crossbow in hand, Daryl stayed ahead of the little girl. One arrow for one freak. They heard a whole slew of other gunshots follow the first, making it clear where they were coming from. Each one that followed made Sophia lag behind. Daryl thought, " _ screw it _ ," and picked her up, running solely on adrenaline.

Lord it was a mess, two people were getting held down by walkers as the others were either trapped inside by freaks banging on the door, or they were fighting on their own. Fueled by Sophia's little, "Rick," Daryl set her down.

"Now you listen well. You gotta stay right here in that bush, don't panic like last time, don't wanna come find you again. I'll come back once I get 'em all. Stay." Daryl pointed at the ground.

She nodded stiffly.

"Stay," Daryl repeated. 

Shooting the walker that was trying to gnaw at the kid under it, the arrow went right through it's head, the impact sent it off of the guy under it. Daryl sprinted over to rip his arrow out of the soft head with a squish. Shooting the other person's freak was simple, since it was now so much closer than the one he just shot. 

Breath on his neck, stench of rot in his nose. He flipped around but wasn't fast enough to hit the thing. It slammed him back into a fence, sharp, built-in spikes bit into his skin. He growled, throwing the thing away and knocking it down, stomping on it. Gunshots made his ears ring but Daryl pushed through, head pounding as he used his knife to stab a walker in it's temple. 

Rushing over to the large group, he took the one's at the back down, grabbing throats and stabbing. There were three women, a lady with short graying hair and the other with long blonde hair and another standing behind the two with no weapon, blonde hair just like the other.

They were all gone once the last few stragglers got picked off. He wandered back to the bush he put Sophia in to find her still there, curled up and shaking in her boots.

"Hey," he said. 

She looked up. "Are they all gone?"

"Yeah, they're… They're gone," he confirmed.

People walked out of the house and hugged with the people who were out fighting. 

Getting pulled along by Sophia, she called out, "Momma!"

Everyone turned, their hugs and smiles put on hold as the others raised their guns to then be replaced with relief and happiness. Sophia ran up to a lady and hugged the life out of her. They both fell to the ground, tears being shed and smiles being shared.

"Who the hell are you?", someone asked, sounding more accusing than questioning.

Daryl just shrugged, crossing his arms and turning away, beginning to walk back to the woods.

"Wait!", Sophia called, running after him once she got out of her mother's grasp.

He grabbed his hand, pulling him back as he lazily followed.  _ He wasn't gonna knock no little girl on the ground _ .

"He's hurt," she said to her ma.

"But-", the guys started.

"He saved me and brought me back here," Sophia said back.

During this, Daryl was shifting between feet, standing taught with his scowl on his face. The group was talking amongst themselves as Daryl just watched as a walker came close to them.  _ These idiots _ …

He slowly readied his crossbow, putting back the string and popping the bolt into its slot. He adjusted it a bit on his arm, opening his mouth a few times as he placed his finger on the trigger, the bolt landing right through the walker's head, going deep to the point that only the quiver was poking out. Everyone's bickering paused as they thought Daryl shot one of their own.  _ Should've, he just saved the one that yelled and spit all over _ .

Those barbs were a real good addition to their fences, the punctures hurt like a bitch. It feels like there's worms of pain wiggling between them just under his skin. Daryl  _ does  _ want these taken care of, just not by these people. He'd rather die than let them poke around on the small of his back.

"I don't need your damn help", he grumbled, stalking over, collecting his arrow by digging into the things rotting eye hole and pulling it out with all of his injured might. Nice clean hole all the way to the grass. 

"See, he's competent. Let 'em go!", the one he  _ saved  _ said.

"We're not just gonna let an injured man walk out there are we?", the kid that was trapped under a walker said.

"We're not going to do that," a man said back with his arms raised. "Lets keep it down and not get more walkers over here and see what Hershel can do."

Everyone looked over at him like he knew something they didn't. Daryl just looked back with a scowl and his arms crossed.

"Common," the leader-man said, beckoning Daryl over.

These pain worms are getting worse. Daryl scoffed, but followed. He really didn't want his back hanging out for all to see.

"I'm Rick," he said after they stepped onto the porch of the farm house.

Daryl huffed, as if he needed to say his name. He led Daryl deeper into the home. Once they arrived at a kitchen table, did Daryl look up from the floor.

An old man, groomed and clean sat there, casually eating eggs as if the world wasn't ending and he didn't have a man bleeding out in his kitchen.

"Rick," the man greeted.

"Hershel," Rick greeted back, sitting down across from the man. "He's injured. Another small herd moved through here, he helped us but hit the barbs on the fence."

Hershel nodded, standing and looking back at Daryl, expecting something.

"Leave your gun here and come with me."

Daryl scowled even harder (if possible) and hissed out an, "old fucking, piece 'a," but did take off his bow and set it down. He walked over to the old man and sent Rick a look that said, "touch my crossbow, you're gonna get your ass whipped". Rick raised his hands in mock defense.

Daryl got to see what a nice house finally looked like. Pa never kept the house clean and neither did Mom, the house was either filled with cigarette smoke or the floor was covered in booze bottles. Dad always had ladies over and had beer cans all over with the usual fast food boxes and bags littering tables and chairs. Never was a place to sit other than his old, ratty reclining chair. This place though, it looked like if heaven was bought down to the fucking Earth. Perfect rays of sun were shining through the windows and hitting everything in the right way to make it glow, chairs were open and plush, an old box TV sat in a corner diagonally, facing the loveseat and chair squad. Floors were cleaned and shiny, not a speck of dust or hair anywhere. It was so clean it almost got to the point that Daryl was about to spill his blood everywhere and knock over a lamp or something.

_ God _ , it was  _ way _ too fucking clean.

He was led into a bedroom that was close to the front door, a nice, escape route if he needed to  _ suddenly flee _ . The bed he was told to flop down on was so fluffy and warm. He flopped on his stomach of course. 

"Son, can you take off your shirts." It wasn't a question, it was an  _ order.  _ This old fart could be damn near terrifying at times.

First thought, " _ no you damn coot, I'm not going to take off my shirts for you. _ " Second thought, " _ oh shit I can't breath. _ " It happened so quick he couldn't figure out when he stopped being able to. Hershel, apparently having the hearing of a  _ GOD,  _ took notice of Daryl's distress.

"Son, you have to take them off, I can't help you if you don't. I'm not going to harm you," Hershel comforted in the most non-comforting way possible.

Breathing started once again, but it was quick, way too quick to the point they sounded like pained gasps into the warm bed sheets. 

"I'm going to touch your right shoulder, okay?", the voice of Hershel cut into Daryl's thoughts.

Somehow, Daryl had enough mental capability to nod his head frantically. A warm hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him but also sending bolts of panic through his body. Dad's hand was big, with meaty fingers that hurt to be hit by, that slapped into skin worse than any belt. Daddy's hand had always been cold and was smooth, but this man's hand was rough and warm. Daddy never worked, only used his hands to beat and to hold beer bottles. Hershel had used his hands for things other than beating his children, perhaps he never laid a hand on his kids (assuming he had some).

Slowly, Daryl was able to breath once again. He  _ needed  _ to be helped. He promised. Shimmying out of his jacket, he then worked on the buttons on his sleeveless flannel. It was hard, still being on his belly and all, but he made it and was able to let Hershel take a look at the gaping hole in his back, as well as his scars.

Hershel didn't pause nor did his breathing pause, he wasn't surprised it seemed, or he was just trying to be calm and not bothered for Daryl's sake. Who knows (obviously Hershel knew).

"Looks like you pulled back off of the spike just in time, could have taken a real hit to your back muscles if you didn't," Hershel commented.

"'Sit lookin' good?", Daryl asked, hating the crackle in his voice.

"Better than expected," was all Hershel said. "You'll need stitches, but after a week or so you'll be up an' going. Maybe not prancing through the fields, but you'll be able to get up and walk with minimal pain."

"Don't move until I say you can," Hershel said as he slapped on some gloves and opened a kit, taking out a needle and thread after wiping it down with an antibacterial wipe.

Hershel then took another cold ass wipe and took Daryl's back, making sure the area was as clean as it could be before he gave a warning and went in. Daryl tried so fucking hard not to move, but he still arched away a bit. Keeping his back mostly straight as Hershel pulled the thread through to the knot on the end. Daryl knew what was next, making it even worse. He tensed so hard as the needles passed through skin for a second time, wheezing at the pull from the thread as I made it through.

"Good," Hershel said.

"Not a," Daryl paused to gasp as the needle went back into his skin for the second line, "fuckin' child."

"By the way you pouted all the way over to here, I'm surprised," Hershel said with that kind of  _ I'm-focusing-here-so-shut-the-eff-up _ kind of tone.

It was mostly silent save for the few grunts and hisses. Once the thread was cut and tied off did Daryl finally deflate and breathe. Handing Daryl some pills, it was almost like Hershel expected Daryl wouldn't ask.

"What 'r these?"

"Pain meds," he responded, slipping off his gloves and tossing them away. Closing up his kit, Hershel said, "now I'm gonna leave you to rest, don't put pressure on the stitching or it could rip, keep your back as straight during sleep as you can and don't get up. Someone will check on you in an hour."

Daryl huffed and nodded. Not a fucking kid, he reminded Hershel, which the man let out a huff-chuckle at.

Finally, he was left alone. The bandage Hershel put on him was already getting uncomfortable, it was like a damn sauna for his back. It was bright ass white and stretched from his shoulders to his lower back. Maybe Hershel thought about his scars and decided to risk all of these bandages for Daryl's comfort? Who knows (again, obviously Hershel).

Sleep quickly took hold of Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so tired when I wrote this that it's scary, thats why it has some more comedic bits to it. It was at like two AM and I had written chapter 1-4 in one night and it was like, seven pages Google doc style.
> 
> Edited: 11/9/20  
> Grammar, cannon-compliance issues, cohesive plot issues


	3. Plz Don't Touch my Shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl kills a walker and Rick spills the beans about Lori and Shane to Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit (a lot) shorter than the first two, it's about 700 where the first two apart were 1,000+. Heeeeeeeeeelp meeeeeeeee! Oh yeah I write the majority of this on my phone, so I'm sorry if I miss some errors.

Daryl awoke to a person's hand on his shoulder. That sobered his sleep muddled brain real quick. He jumped so far he's almost surprised he didn't fall clear off the bed. There was a blonde girl standing with a tray of food right behind the brunette girl who had her hand laid on his shoulder.

"Hey," the brunette said. "'S been an hour, we gotcha food."

Backing away, she watched intently as the blonde set down the food on the white sheets that were crumpled around Daryl's lap. 

"I'm Beth, that's my sister, Maggie," Beth said softly. "We got you peaches, eggs, and water. I hope you're not allergic to anything," she paused. " _ Are _ you allergic to anything?"

Daryl shook his head, making the soft-spoken blonde smile and jump up, walking back over to her sister. Maddie gave him one more suspicious look and walked out behind her sister. That was one of the strangest things he's woken up to. Those eggs sure do look suspicious… But also very tasty.

_ Got nothing to live for so… _

Sniffing the eggs, Daryl only smelt- well, egg. It smelled super good to Daryl's stomach too apparently, it growled and pinched. Taking the fork ( _ a real fork! _ ), he stabbed the egg, fighting the urge to inhale the food. Taking a small nibble, nothing tastes weird, just like how nothing smelled weird. Alright, you only live once. The eggs were gone in a few seconds, the peach was eaten in the blink of an eye, and the water was half drunk so quick it looked like one of those toy baby bottles where the milk disappears. Full, the grasps of sleep inhaled him once again.

He was woken up at midnight by scrapes. Senses sharp, Daryl slipped out of the safety of the bed. The pain in his back was a dull thump as he peaked out the door, everything was quiet besides for those scrapes. He peaked out of the doorway, finding nothing, just quiet and dark. The scratching was like nails on a chalkboard, annoying and shrill. Daryl made a pit stop in the dining room to pick up his crossbow. Crouching, Daryl made it outside without a hitch, turning the corner to find a walker scratching just below the room he was staying in. He shot the thing and it immediately fell, easy as pie, man. It was skinny and gray, a disgusting shade with greens and blues. Digging into its pockets, Daryl found a pocket knife and a wallet. He left the wallet and got to the left butt pocket, snitching himself a pack of smokes. Those smokes and that knife are  _ his _ . 

Grass shifted from behind Daryl. Jumping up, he whipped around, pointing his crossbow at the loud buffoon.

"Hey, it's me, Rick," Rick quickly said, taking a hand off of his gun to raise his hands.

Lowering his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder, Daryl walked to the porch, shoving past Rick with a passive-aggressive shoulder. Rick said nothing and simply followed as Daryl made himself comfortable on the railing, popping out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag.

"Smoking's bad," Rick said.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Daryl snapped back.

The two sat in silence, Daryl perched on the railing while Rick was down by his feet, arms crossed, sitting on the railing.

"Just found out that my wife was sleeping with Shane," Rick said.

"Ouch."

"Mhm, Shane's the loud one with dark hair," Rick provided. "She's fucking pregnant."

_ Ah, so that's who was spitting all over even after I saved his damn life. _ "Hmf."

"She's always saying I should talk to her more and when I do, she yells at me, I don't know what to do."

Why was Rick telling Daryl this? Daryl has no clue, he just decided to go with it.  _ You only live once.  _ "She needs prenatal vitamins," Daryl said.

Rick looked at him quickly. "Where'd we get those?"

"Pharmacy. Convenience store. Watch her, pregnancy does shit to your mood," Daryl said as he took an extra long drag to make it so he didn't have to say more.

"Hm," Rick grunted.

Rick nodded, tapping the porch rail lightly. He got up from his slouched position and waved slightly, walking back to his tent with his head on a swivel for walkers.

_ Weird fuckin' man. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 11/9/20  
> Grammar, cohesive plot issues


	4. Get Thwarted Bro-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane beating Daryl sprinkled with Rick rescuing Daryl from Shane's evil clutches. That's really it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm this is long, very, very long, think I hit the 2,000 word mark with his one. Not sure how to pass time without a time skip but I want this to be a slow burn so no skipping but Daryl being bound from any action is driving me crazy hmmmmmmmm...
> 
> Uh, so, shits been going on in my life right now, just had a break up a kinda toxic friendship that was going on for three years and uh yeah, I was really in the ground for two days; yesterday and the day before. I got some fresh wounds that've dug up some older ones too, I'll make it through I think.  
> You know, I never would have thought writing for Daryl would be so therapeutic, me and him honestly got a few demons in common.
> 
> Oh yeah I'm also on s6 ep5 so yeah, makin' it through the Wolves business right now, excited to see Negan tho like djdjdcdjcfbvf-

Daryl stayed out on the porch even once everyone was awake. He was sitting there, smoking his sixth cigarette. Everyone was working: cooking, wringing out wet clothing to hang it up, gathering food and standing on watch. Daryl was itching to move, but his stitching was already starting to pull, which wouldn't be very helpful if he had to get it re-stitched. Daryl heals quick. He'll be fine…

  
  


...He's already bored…

Stubbing out his cigarette, Daryl hopped off the railing, making his way to the front door. It creaked as he opened it, walking to the kitchen (Hershel and everyone had freaked the hell out once Rick told them Daryl had killed a walker) and grabbing a chair, standing on it to reach the top of the cabinets. Why they would think Daryl couldn't get it, who knows. He grabbed his flannel once he passed the room he was staying in. Buttoning it with one hand was a feat of extreme measures, but he succeeded. He really needs to clear his head.

He slung his crossbow over his shoulder, going back outside and cutting around the house tightly to, hopefully, not run into anyone-

"What're you doing over here?", Shane asked. 

Daryl didn't turn, he only tensed and continued towards the fence.

"Hey, get back here. Don't need to be wastin' our shit on you but here we are. Least you could do is pay us the fuck back." Shane wrapped a hand around Daryl's wrist.

Daryl reacted quickly, taking hold of Shane's wrist to shove him down, bringing his own held wrist down to straddle Shane's back, effectively trapping him. Either he wasn't a competent cop or his brain's muddled, he couldn't break the hold.

"Get offa me!", he yelled as he wiggled.

Daryl let out a huff, only tightening his grip.

"Hey," came a call. Rick was jogging over with his posse of buds after him.

"He started it," came from the ground. That was seriously the first thing Shane said.

"I don't care who started it," Rick sent Daryl a I-know-you-didn't-start-it look. "Let 'em go."

Something about Rick's aura and tone makes Daryl actually listen. He added the extra wrench of Shane's arm as a bit of payback for being a bitch and let him go, internally laughing as Shane scrambled up and wiped off the grass on his clothes. 

A lady ran up to him, looking over his shoulder and his arm, giving him death glares.  _ Fuck you too I guess _ . Daryl just adjusted his crossbow and started making his way to the woods.

"Never fuckin' answered me; where the hell are you going?", came Shane's voice.

Daryl shrugged, honestly he doesn't know, but he does know he wants to get away from him.

"Hey," Rick called, jogging up to Daryl's side, "where are ya' goin'?"

This goddamn man and his goddamn nice aura.

"Around," was all Daryl graced Rick with.

"Don't get too far and don't pull your stitches," Rick said nodding.

"Not gonna stop me?", Daryl asked as Rick turned away to go see if Shane was alright.

"Can't stop ya', all I can do is ask ya' to be careful," Rick answered.

Daryl paused for a moment, letting that sink in.  _ This man could definitely stop me with one look _ . Daryl jumped over the fence, now hyper aware of the barbs, both the small ones (small is a relative term) and the large ones (just big ass sticks sharpened, poking up from the ground). 

Daryl jumped over logs and roots, zipping through the trees and feeling alive until his stitches pulled weirdly. He slowed, letting his back relax and the pain from the pulling to calm. Blood trickled down the small of his back, tickling and itchy. He's gonna be so sticky with the blood mixed with the sweat coming from the fact he's running around with a sauna strapped to his back. 

Slowing to a crawl, Daryl's eyes caught sight of a print, small, only around three inches, it'll be a big one. Following the trail, he only found more prints, more prints and- oh!- also more prints. Eventually got to a road finding scat and a long stretch of nothing. Scat's fresh. Following the muddy footprints to the other side of the road, Daryl held his crossbow in his hands, loading it as his eyes just locked onto the fluffy tail, looked like a house rabbit. It was white, close to albino. Used to have an owner. 

He shot it anyway.

  
  


Making it back to "base" (hard air quotes), he knelt down in a nice corner of the porch, tossing the few tiny critters he could find into a pile to gut. He raised his knife, hoping to just be able to shuffle through them all and get their heads off cleanly. Before he could though, a small sheet was placed down in front of him.

A lady, young looking but with gray hair stood there, smiling softy at him. 

"Thank you for bringing my daughter back, it really means a lot," she thanked, quietly sitting down next to Daryl. She was  _ still  _ smiling.

"Hmf," Daryl grunted, shrugging. "Did what others would."

"No, others wouldn't have wasted time with her," she said, looking off into space, flinching each time Daryl swung the knife down on a critters head. She looked back at him, "why'd you do it? Do you have an endgame?"

Daryl paused mid-cut. No, he didn't have an endgame. But does he want them to know that he's alone? They could kill him or something.

Silence would be best.

Her eyebrow raised. " Do you have people?"

_ Ah shit _ . Silence. 

Her smile turned into a frown as she got up.  _ Fuck fuck _ . "Oh!" She turned back around with a hand out. "I'm Carol."

Daryl looked from her hand to her and then back to her hand. He didn't take it, just went back to gutting.

_ Shit she's gonna go tell them I got a group when I fucking don't _ . _ Fucking idiot _ .

He was able to get done with the bunny and one black squirrel before he saw Shane stomping over. Next thing he knew, he got decked,  _ hard. _

"Fuck you!", he yelled. 

Taking Daryl in a choke hold, Shane replaced his forearm with his fingers. Immediately, Daryl started thrashing. He held at Shane's fingers, trying to pry them away before all of his breath was gone. Shane shoved Daryl down, punching his face while holding Daryl down with a hand on his neck and a knee on his chest.

"Shane!", Rick called, coming up behind the madman and holding his shoulders back. "This is  _ not  _ how we do things."

Daryl took a big gulp as Shane's fingers left his throat. One nasty hand mark was leftover from how hard Shane dug his fingers in. Rick came over to Daryl who had fallen onto his back, shock setting in as he took deep, almost gasping, breaths.

Shane backed away and stood next to that one death glare lady who held his arm. Rick inched towards Daryl's body, looked like he was dead until he shot up. He shoved Rick back as he scrambled to the other side of the deck. Daryl's mind was reduced to " _ flee before they kill you _ " but he was still hyper aware of the fact everyone was looking at him. Blood painted his face as his stitching finally gave up.

"Hey," Rick crouched down, "it's okay. Do you have a group."

_ Fuckin' treatin' me like a child _ . Daryl shook his head, using the railing to get up.

"Why'd you act like you did?"

"Didn't want ta' seem like an easy target," Daryl answered.  _ Damn this man with his dashing good looks _ !

"Fr' what?"

"I dunno, murder?", Daryl said as he shrugged. "Slavery? Bait? Human test subject?"

Rick just hummed. The others were still watching, making Daryl's head hurt and his skin itch. 

"Come'ere," Rick motioned with his hand.

"Nah," Daryl said.

"Wasn't a suggestion."

Daryl rolled his eyes, following Rick into that Godforsaken room, plopping down once Rick said to. Hershel came in, tailgated by Rick.

"What'd you do now, son?", Hershel asked.

"Dun got myself beat," Daryl answered.

"That was a rhetorical question," Hershel commented dully.

Humming, Daryl took back off his shirt. 'Course Daryl was facing Rick, wouldn't have been so willing if he wasn't.

"Tore the stitching, told you to be gentle."

"Gentle isn't in my nature, old coot." Hershel didn't comment on that, just shoved the needle in and began re-stitching Daryl's wound.

"Now who's making me stitch your back closed?"

This time Rick piped in. "Shane."

"Bring him in the kitchen once I'm done here, I need to have a talk with him."

Rick said, "sure." 

He rounded the bed, trying to see a bit of what Hershel was doing, but Daryl jerked away. Hershel grunted a small, "son" and gave Rick a look. Somehow, Rick seemed to know from just that look and backed off.

"I'll tell everyone he's doing okay," Rick said as if Daryl wasn't there. Hershel nodded.

Rick left and Daryl settled back down. "This is bullshit," he grumbled.

"Don't pull the stitches next time. Do you have a group?"

Goddamn this old man was just like Rick, aura was nice and he spoke in a level tone.

"No," Daryl sighed.

"That was smart, but extreamly stupid," Hershel said.

"Wow, really? Stitches wouldn't have pulled if that ugly fuck didn't jump me."

Hershel wrapped the newly stitched and red wound, moving in front of Daryl to look at his black and blue face. 

"Like whatchur' seein'," Daryl snarked as Hershel turned his head using Daryl's chin.

"No because you're going to have one black eye and lots of bandages," Hershel said. Not one for being a smart ass okay.

Hershel grabbed a washcloth from a small bucket, wiping the small cuts on Daryl's face. 

"If I see you back in here, you're going to have to stitch your own back," Hershel said, one hundred percent serious.

"Wouldn't have been back here if wonder kid didn't beat the shit outta me," Daryl huffed.

"No crossbow and no getting up."

Hershel got up and left and now, once again, Daryl was alone. Part of him wanted someone in here, he was almost getting tired of being alone. Now isn't that something? Daryl Dixon getting lonely, God. Old fucker said to stay down and tearing those stitches hurt like hell so he's going to stay down. 

Screw this. Maybe he wouldn’t frolk in the woods, but he could at least sit on the porch, those animals needed gutting. Slipping out the door, Daryl settled back down in front of his dinner, slicing stomachs and tearing guts out. 

People noticed he was sitting there, of course they did, wasn't like he was hiding. They didn't talk or even look at him, they were maybe scared? Intimidated? Good, they should be. 

Only Rick looked at him, well, Shane was giving him a stink eye, but he can fuck off. Rick was intently watching, made Daryl aware of all of the little things he was doing. His hand shook, he licked his lip, his breath caught, his spine hurt, the hand marks thumped, his arm itched.

Shane was such a bitch. He was just sitting there, leaned back on the tailgate of a red truck. Daryl stared back, using the tarp to pick up all of the gutted carcasses, Daryl went over to the side of the house, they had a little tree there, could hang the bodies there for now.

"They patched you up again, didn't they?", Shane said.

He was as loud as a horse on a road when walking, even when trying to be quiet. Daryl didn't answer, he just continued to hang the carcasses. 

"Hey, fuckin' answer me, prick," Shane growled, shoving a finger into Daryl's back. 

Letting out a hiss of pain, Daryl flipped around and shoved Shane back, scowl ever so prominent.

"Oh ho ho, you have balls now?"

"Fuck off," Daryl grunted.

"So, the stone wall can talk?", Shane chuckled.

Daryl was so tired of people already. Bad fucking idea coming out here. Furrowing his brows in anger, Daryl swung, catching Shane off guard and sending him crumbling to the ground. Daryl doesn't want to be hated by this group, but if it got this cock off his back then it'll be worth it.

"What the hell?", Shane hissed.

Daryl didn't go back in for a fight until Shane swung. Daryl crouched and jumped behind Shane, clocking him over the head once again. Fuck, this man has one thick skull (literally, not figuratively). This was how it went for around three minutes, Shane would throw a punch and Daryl would crouch and slip more around Shane. Like playing ring-around-the-rosie with a child. Daryl threw a few punches of his own, missing more than hitting; he even got hit once or twice himself. 

Eventually, people noticed Daryl and Shane were gone and got worried. Shane could either be beating Daryl once again, or Daryl could be killing Shane. They found Shane miserably missing Daryl and Daryl just looking frankly bored. 

"Shane," Rick called.

Shane looked away for a second and that's all that was needed for Daryl to make a play. Daryl punched Shane's gut and shoved him back towards Rick and his posse of idiots.

"Fuck you, you motherfucker," Shane grunted out through a swollen lip.

Daryl just flipped him off back and licked his bleeding lip.

The group sat Shane back on the side of the house, tending to his miniscule wounds. Rick asked him something along the lines of, "you good, brother?" He gained a nod from Shane and the others. 

"Hey, wait," Rick called to Daryl. 

"Fuck you and your goons," Daryl hissed, jumping the small fence.

"Wait just-", Rick cut himself off. "Shane's outta control."

"Hmf,  _ really _ ? Now you notice," Daryl said after spinning around to send Rick a hard glare.

"Please just wait, lemme explain-"

"Naw."

"Well lemme come with you then if you won't listen," Rick said, almost like it was final.

_ Can't fucking stop this man _ .

Daryl turned back away and shrugged, grunting. Rick hopped the fence and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah by the way, I'm painfully northern. 
> 
> Like, I got a few southern stuff in my usual day to day speak, but I blame that on my mother, she used to live in New Orleans and I've been down there a few times. God it's way too hot down there. I walked through a grave yard in 100 degree weather with no clouds. Now, if you know the grave yards in NO, you'll know it gets so fucking hot (for a good reason). I'm better in cold weather, Wisconsin has treated me well in the cold, but not in the NO heat.
> 
> Edited: 11/9/20  
> Grammar, cannon-compliance issues, cohesive plot issues


	5. No One, Not One Person Likes Walkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grabbing the whole, they get caught by a herd on a run, thing and fucking running with it-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Shits wack, man. But here! I have another cooking up as well.
> 
> If you have any ideas to help move the story forward, I would gladly take them! I'm at a point where I know what I want in the story, I know what I want it to end with, but I'm not sure how to move the relationship to that point, you know? Any ideas I would gladly take! (Credit where credits due, you will be, of course, named and I'll express extream, nearly scary amounts of gratitude)
> 
> Also, Minecraft is supported by PSVR whaaaaaa?

Daryl and Rick walked in silence, only the crunching of leaves filled the air. God the air was thick with anxiety.

They were weaving between thick trees, lots of them were caked in blood, smeared across bark and leaves. Some trapped walkers reached for their feet as they passed, looked pathetic. Daryl kicked one in the head as it pulled on his pant leg, whereas Rick grimaced at the sight.

"Are you gonna stay?", Rick questioned.

"Do you really want me to?", Daryl said back.

"Shane of course doesn't, Lori doesn't and Jacqui is put off by you, Ed's vote is to shoot you, but Glenn- the guy that was under the walker you shot first- does want you to stay, so does Dale, Amy, Sophia, Carol, Andrea even though she's just saying that for Amy, and I think Hershel don't mind ya'," Rick said.

A while went by before Rick spoke once again. “Are we going anywhere in particular? Can you at least tell me in your normal vague way.”

Daryl grumbled a few swears to himself before piping up, “town’s up a ways, food, meds, water, shit like ‘dat.”

Rick nodded.

"How'd you survive for so long on your own?", Rick asked.

Yeesh, that hurts. The memory of Merle growling at that freak was still fresh in Daryl's mind. He just shrugged.

"Didn't last more than two seconds alone before I got caught in a tank by a herd," Rick said.

"Hm. Got caught in a barrel by those things once."

Rick cocked his head.

"Had ta' hide somewhere."

"So you chose a barrel?", Rick asked incredulously.

Daryl looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Yea'."

This is why Daryl didn't like people, they're always so judgmental. 'Least the trees are more fucking quiet. Finally, they found a road, it was cracked and filled to the brim with potholes but road means people and people means civilization which means survival equipment. Speaking of, they made it.

The town was old and decrepit, paper strewn about and cars with their door hastily left open. Some trunks were open and some hoods were popped. There was nothing of use out here, not even in the cars, they're all looted. Going to a small store, (looks like a mini convenience store) Daryl tried to turn the knob, but it didn't budge. He took out his knife to jimmy the lock.

"Where'd you learn that?", Rick asked.

"Gonna cuff me, Officer?", Daryl hissed. Tryin' to focus here dammit.

"I'm not much of an officer anymore." Like a light switch went off, Rick snapped his attention to Daryl. "What's your name?"

Daryl gave a huff. Rick sighed and gave up on that subject for now.

"Got any idea why Shane hates you so much?"

"To hell if I know," Daryl growled out as his knife clicked around with the lock.

"Anything he said to you?"

"Said he didn't like wastin' shit on me. Other macho shit too, it's all BS," Daryl said. Really want Rick off his back now no matter how nice it feels to have a competent person watching his back.

"Yea', talks a lot but his bites tiny," Rick chuckled as Daryl finally got the damn lock.

Using his knife, he tapped on a little metal hanging rack by his side. Groans came from inside as two walkers came shambling out towards Rick and Daryl. It wasn't no problem for the two, they both stabbed the things in the eyes, carrying on through the building.

They ran into one more thought the entire building before Rick deemed it clear. It was small, only two rooms linked with a large open hole in the wall.

"Alright, meet back here in twenty minutes, I'll look through here and you go to the other room, yeah?", Rick said it more like a set in stone plan.

Didn't sound half bad. Daryl just shrugged and slipped through the hole, getting a small bit of drywall stuck on his shirt. He grabbed what he could, granola bars, a few water bottles, trail mix, cereal, and some candy bars because Daryl hasn't had sweets for ages. The deli counter had only rotten meat. He didn't have a damn bag, forgot his messenger bag next to the bed he was staying in. Had a shopping basket though, made him look like a weird homeless person coming into a small store to snag some random ass snacks.

He was heading towards the hole in the wall before he noticed a door covered in shadows, how'd I not see that? Opening it, he set the basket down in favor of holding his knife out. It was dark as all hell back here, looked like a storage hall, because that was what it was, just a really long hall with five doors, two on each side and one large door at the end. The door at the end was extremely eye-catching, was big and metal. Maybe a freezer?

Opening the metal door, Daryl confirmed that yes, it was a freezer. A good amount of the cold air was still kept cold, making the gush of wind shocking. Wandering in, there were a few fruits and a bit of meat, they were slightly molded, but that could be dealt with. As Daryl slowly put down his knife, he heard a shuffle and turned around just in time to shove a walker back. It was a disgusting pale blue, ice hung off of frayed hair and facial hair and snot was frozen on it's top lip. Name tag on it's apron read, "Shawn". Probably worked at the deli counter and locked himself back here in a blind panic.

The walker was cold as ice and fast as hell. Daryl was struggling to hold the walker back from the shock of the cold air meeting Daryl's warm body. He was shivering, the walker was persistent. Daryl hit a piece of ice on the floor, making him slip and hit his head on the concrete floor. His knife went flying. Just then Daryl relized he forgot his fucking crossbow.

His ears rang as the walker got even closer, icy breath stung at Daryl's face, the grotesque teeth clamping together in front of his nose. Everything was blurry, he could hardly see where his knife went. Daryl was already signing his way into hell before the noises stopped and a slicing sound was right in front of his face. Opening his eyes, the walker's head was split in half by a hatchet. Only one drop of blood fell onto Daryl's face, the rest of it was frozen. 

"Are you okay?", Rick asked, shoving the walker off. "No bites?"

"No bites," Daryl confirmed. He shook as Rick helped him up, surprising himself even when he accepted the offered hand.

Fingering around, Daryl found his knife and put it back in his little holster, missing a few times as he spaced out on the wall.

"Hey, are you okay?", Rick asked once again.

Honestly, no, Daryl is not okay, his fucking ears are ringing, his eyes are out of focus, he was scared out of his wits end and his head hurt like a mother fucker. Can he say that? No, no he can't.

"'M fine," he mumbled, stumbling out of the freezer and into the warm Georgia air. 

Rick caught Daryl as he nearly toppled over. Everything was so damn tilted. 

"Let's sit you down," Rick said.

Daryl shook his head, sending a weak glare Rick's way as he ripped his shoulder away from Rick's hands.

"St'p touchin' me," Daryl grumbled, stumbling over nothing.

"Common, just sit."

Daryl growled out a warning, but he let Rick sit him down.

"What happened?"

"Saw the door, went ta' check it out, walker got me to the floor and I dropped m' knife."

Rick nodded. "Shoulda' gotten me."

That set off something in Daryl for some reason. "Didn't know the hell ya' were so's I couldn't get 'cha anyway! I can handle myself jus' fine! Don' need 'cha babyin' me!"

Rick just nodded, humming and holding Daryl's face still, even when he pushed back. 

"Need ta' look at your head, stop wriggling," Rick complained.

Huffing a mix of, "fuckin' cunt," and, "dick," Daryl did indeed hold still.

“Are you okay?”, Rick asked.

"Do I look okay?"

"You're fine physically for the most part. I was asking about in here," Rick said, tapping his head.

"Wha- brains fine." Daryl mumbled, "'m fine."

He's not sure if that was for Rick or himself.

"Common, let's go back to the farm, we got enough stuff for a few days. Got some meds too."

"Still the rest o' the town," Daryl mumbled.

"Glenn and Shane can come back, you need to get back," Rick said, taking Daryl's arm with minimal complaints and hoisted the dizzy man on his shoulders. 

Getting Daryl through the hole was a whole different issue though. With some shimmying, Daryl soon stumbled through, falling back to Rick's shoulders. With enough motivation, Daryl and Rick made it to the front door. Rick winced at the screech that the old metal knob made as he turned it. A walker was right there, staring them down. Daryl's heart dropped down into his asshole as it lunged. The two fell as the undead threw itself onto Rick. Daryl made sure to not let his head hit the ground this time.

Rick struggled with the walker as it drooled on him and clacked its teeth together. Rick curled his legs under the walker's chest to hold it back as he grabbed his gun, shoving it into the gaping mouth and fired. The sound was still loud, no matter if it was in the walker's mouth or not.

After the rigging stopped, Daryl's headache picked up tenfold. Through the throbbing of his head, he could hear shuffling, lots of shuffling. Moans sounded from out of the open front door, the dingy air filling with the smell of rot. Rick was the first to jump up, rushing to the door in time to block them away from the coming walkers.

"How many shots?", Daryl asked.

"Two," Rick answered, opening the chamber and closing it with a click. "How 'bout 'chu?"

"Nothin'," Daryl said, holding up his knife. 

"Guess we're staying here for the night, common," Rick concluded, grabbing Daryl's arm.

Daryl huffed and ripped his arm away from Rick, using the wall to bring himself to his feet. Rick just shrugged, going to the back of the current room they were in to settle down in, what seemed like, an office. It was dusty, the desk was full of bills and papers full of words. Daryl could read them if the boredom chewed away into his brain.

Taking his knife out, he settled in a corner, grabbing a pen from the desk on his way down. He set the knife by his side, within reach and flicked open the pen, making weird, oblong blobs on his hand.

If this was how the night was gonna go, then oh boy was it gonna be a long one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 11/9/20  
> Grammar, cannon-compliance issues, cohesive plot issues


	6. Can I Have the Sweet Embrace of Death to End my Misery?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went a bit insane while writing this because FUCK GLENN-
> 
> Just got to s7 ep 9 and I got somethings to say: 1. poor Daryl, 2. Glenn with his eye popping out legit made me kinda sick and I cried for a good ten minutes, 3. Rick, please, my man, you good?, 4. God poor Maggie, 5. actually, poor everyone, 6. fuck, Negan, you're such a charmer, I hate you but I love you but I really fucking HATE YOU.
> 
> Gotta write tho, man. *Sniff* Gotta write...

Even as the daylight hours set in, and the morning light shone through the windows, Daryl was still drawing strange shapes on his hand. Some turned into leaves, others into faces, and others into clouds because the looks Rick was giving really made Daryl unable to think of more things to turn these shapes into besides for the easy option: clouds. Clouds had no faces, no details and no personalities, they just were itty bitty little rain partials floating in the sky. That one could be a sun, the one next to it could be a cloud, and the one by that could count as a bird if you squinted so hard that your eyes were closed and turned your head ninety degrees.

Rick finally took the rolling chair out from under the door handle. Part of Daryl wanted to stay here until he starved, but he also wanted to get the fuck out of here. He made a promise, he wants to stick to Merle's last dying wish. Run, 'till you can't no more, stop, eat, drink if you gotta, then go an' run some more, never stop running for too long. If Daryl stops running for a while, he'll start to mourn, if he starts to mourn, then he thinks about Merle, thinking about Merle will lead to thinking about death and then it'll all go down the drain from there. He feels like he's betraying his brother when he sits for too long, hence why he hates that group and their fucking farm, you have to keep moving or you'll mourn, then you'll die.

Rick asked, "are you okay to walk on your own?"

 _Not a damn child_! Keeping his cool, Daryl just nodded.

Inching down the hall, they were lucky to find that the door held fine and the area was walker free. Snagging the basket, Daryl shuffled through it, finding everything there still. Rick, the lucky fuck he seemed to be, was digging through a bag, the rattle of pills showing that he had gotten a pretty decent stash.

"Here," Rick held out a bottle to him.

It was ibuprofen. Daryl sent him a confused look.

"You hit 'chur head hard, wouldn't doubt you have a headache."

Daryl just shoved the pills back and peaked out the covered windows of the store.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Daryl mumbled more to himself.

“Yeah,” Rick agreed, coming up next to Daryl to look out on the forty or so walkers all shambling past.

The two stepped back, covering the window back up. Rick handed the pills back to Daryl.

“I got an idea,” Rick said, “take these, I don’t need you falling over.”

Daryl just gave him a look, “idea?”

Rick nodded, dropping a pill in Daryl’s hand. “We’re gonna cover ourselves in walker.”

“In walker?” Daryl’s eyebrow raised. Cover yourself in walker?

“Mhm, they smell you, if you smell like an infected, they won’t notice you.”

“Sos’ we gut one o’ these fucks n’ use their guts as a necklace?”, Daryl asked.

“Yeah.”

 _This fuckers gonna kill both of us_.

Daryl shrugged. The two walked over to the two piled walkers in the corner of the room.

“Think you can gut a walker?”

Daryl nodded, flipping out his knife. Daryl crouched down next he stuck the knife into the belly of the walker, the skin just peeled off whole as he dragged the knife down. He paused, but continued, using bare hands to scoop intestines and kidneys.

Rick ripped down curtains, slicing two holes in both, slipping one over his head, he handed the other to Daryl. Nodding, Daryl put the cloak-esk curtain on, scooping out guts and blood, slapping them on his shoulders and chest.

 _Good, I smell like death it’s fucking self_.

During that time, Rick slathered himself in gore and was walking up to the door, puny gun in hand. Daryl grabbed Rick’s bag, it would fit the few things he could find. He dumped all of the shit from the red shopping basket into Rick’s bag. Rick gave him a so-I-get-all-the-work-now look.

Daryl’s last thought was, _this is where I die_ , before the door screeched open. The damn door's scream turned a few heads, it’s fine until it ultimately won't be.

Daryl's heart was in his throat, his stomach queasy at the smells assaulting his nostrils. His grip on his knife was so tight his fingers started buzzing. Daryl's feet felt like they were chained to blocks of lead, his knees felt like they would buckle at any moment. The sheer fear coursing through him made everything worse, made every single sound like a pin dropping in a quiet room, each walker that brushed his shoulder seemed to know he was alive.

 _Yup_ , he thought, _I die here with this fucking idiot_.

The autumn breeze kicked in, making the two shiver and their cloak-curtain-death robes to flutter about. Grabbing hold of the curtain with a squelch, Daryl continued tailing Rick. _Fuck this wind_. They were so close to the tree line that it was almost sweet. A walker bumped into Rick, but instead of continuing, it paused, leaning in close with it’s mouth open sniffing Rick’s neck. Rick froze, torn between killing the walker and giving up their cover or waiting to see if the walker bites him. It hissed and growled, raising a hand and it’s mouth opening wider to bite into Rick’s neck. Daryl stabbed a walker beside him that realized they were living. The others turned, bringing their arms up to try and grab Daryl and Rick.

“Oh shit!-” Daryl spun around after putting down another, following Rick as they were running to the tree line.

A walker interrupted him, diving onto Daryl from his side. Putting his hand on the walker's face, Daryl gagged as a long line of drool mixed with blood splattered on his face. He felt around, trying to get anything to kill the walker. A gunshot went off and the walker’s neck exploded, the force of the shot to it made it fly off of Daryl. He whipped his head to the side, seeing Rick with his gun raised, then he gestured to get up and follow.

 _I might not die today_?

Daryl flung himself to his feet, stabbing and pushing away more walkers as Rick sprinted into the thick brush. Using all of the strength he could muster, Daryl pushed a big lot of walkers away, quickly turning and flinging himself into the trees. Rolling a bit down a small hill, he held a hand over the fragile stitching in his back, slightly hissing in pain.

Darkness set in as they stumbled through the woods, small trailer coming in through the trees. Making a fire was definitely the least straninus thing Daryl’s done today. Flopping down, Daryl let out a small breath.

“Hey,” Rick said, walking over after he sat down, “are you okay? Bites, scratches?”

Daryl shook his head. “You?”

Rick shook his head back.

Silence followed for about ten minutes before Rick dug in his bag, taking out a can of peaches and one of refried beans.

“Which one do you want?”, Rick asked.

Daryl gave him a side look, snatching the can of peaches and cracking it open.

“So you’re leavin’ me with the shits?”

Daryl paused, arms falling onto his knees as he turned his entire front to give Rick a look.

“Poop jokes ain’t funny,” Darly mumbled.

“You found it entertaining,” Rick said.

Daryl definity felt the coming of a smile, but just slightly. He rolled his eyes, going back to opening his can of peaches. Rick just gave in a knowing grin and popped open his can with a small, “this looks like shit.” It’s good that Rick left that alone, because one more teasing word out of that man’s mouth would make Rick magically lose one testical tonight.

The two ate in relative silence, only the occasional slurp from Daryl or a suffering gag from Rick went in the air. Daryl set his can down, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and curled up with his back facing Rick. He shut his eyes, but only to focus on listening, not because it felt like the sandman came and shat in his eyes, definitely not. Okay, maybe a light snooze would be appropriate.

Sleeping under the stars like this reminded Daryl of childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hate refried beans so uh yeah.
> 
> Edited: 11/9/20  
> Grammar, cannon-compliance issues, cohesive plot issues, word usage


	7. Bro, Those Are Our Cars.   B R O   W E ' R E   F U C K I N '   T R I P E N '

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: "Bad luck with herds, yeah?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit on the short side. Usually my parts for this is 1,000 or more words but this is 860-something words.
> 
> Update: person in my immediate family has positive Covid test. We're staying safe, have been this entire time but masks only go such a long ways, especially if only one person is wearing one. The Covid cases in my area are going up a lot, a few days ago the case numbers were 0, then the next day it was 5, then the next 10, and now it's at 22.
> 
> Story parts may be smaller and updates will be more spread out. I hope that I'll be able to avoid that but I'm not entirely sure. I'm very confused, I feel really ill, I can't focus that well, shits whack my man. 
> 
> So yeah other than feeling very ill and shitting all of my insides out, I'm doing pretty well, no need to worry.

“Hey,” a warbly voice said.

It looked like he was underwater.

“Hey.” 

Dark curls broke into his vision as he shot up, skittering back and breathing hard with a scream dying on his lips before if even eked out. He pushed out, fist meeting flesh with a slap. Daryl scooted back and breathed sharply.

“Hey.” it was Rick.

Fuck, Daryl had just punched Rick. Rick was looking at him expectantly after he reeled back from the hit to the cheek. Darly had to fight the urge to say sorry real hard.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Lesson learned,” Rick said back, holding up his hand in mock-surrender.

He’s gonna have one hell of a bruise. Daryl got up, shrugging on his leather jacket and strolling to the front door, peaking out before reaching for the knob.

“Whatcha’ doin’?”, came Rick’s voice.

Opening the door, Daryl replied with a snarky, “takin’ a fuckin’ piss, man.”

After his business was done, he zipped up and just as he was about to turn the corner to tell Rick that it was time to get going, he was tackled.

All the air was taken out of his lungs as he wheezed out a, “wha’ the fuck?”

It was Rick, Rick was on his fucking back shooshing him. Daryl opened his mouth to complain about his stitches, but his mouth clamped shut as the sound of cars were quickly approaching. Took the two a few seconds before they realized, “hey, those were our cars.” Shooting up, Rick took off in a run as Daryl shook himself off, sighed, and ran after. The cars slowed and Daryl slowed down whereas Rick just kept running in a blind panic for his group.

Out poked Glenn’s head from the rusty truck. “Get in!”, he yelled, motioning with a hand as rot filled the air.

Just then Dayl relized that a-fucking-nother herd was chasing them. Mind you, slowly, but what they lacked in speed, they made up in fucking numbers. Running over, he valted the tailgate, making sure Rick got in before he patted the truck, watching as the large herd got smaller and smaller.

“You got bad luck with herds,” Daryl said, breaking the quiet.

Rick laughed, “yeah, that’s for damn sure.” He turned towards Daryl with a smile. “So, have I gotten the privilege to know your name yet?”

Daryl scowled harder, shifting before turning his face towards Rick but not making eye contact saying, “Daryl,” before turning back to look at the road.

“It’s nice to have you around,” Rick said. “S’ not like a lot of people here know what to do with walkers. Nice to have one more who does.”

“Don’ know what to do with ‘em, just guessin’.”

“Hm, you know what I mean,” Rick said.

Daryl just nodded.

After a while, Rick made a small chuckle. “‘Ya know, before alla’ this, I used to always have such a tight schedule. Get up at six AM, drink coffee, brush teeth, shower, dress, eat, then go to work.”

“No kiss from the wife?”, Daryl said, like a grade A smart ass.

“Yeah no,” Rick laughed. “Slept on the couch more than my own room. You know, now everything's get up when you hear a noise, find food, eat when possible, drink if you can find water, kill walkers, and sleep again. I was a cop, ya’ know, it’s weird, feels like you’re killin’ people even though you know you ain’t.”

Daryl nodded, just wondering why Rick was telling him this.

“I don’t know. I was in a coma when all the shit hit the fan.” Daryl cocked his head. “Gunshot, got hit on the job. First walkers I saw were in there. People laying outside their rooms with their heads shot. Then later I realized Lori’s pregnant with my best friend’s kid and my son comes over and tells me that they’ve been doing shit since I got into a coma. That’s not the kind of thing you expect to hear outta your kid's mouth.”

“Sounds like shit,” Daryl says. This is why I’m not married.

“Part of me’s glad. Didn’t feel much for Lori for a while, didn’t wanna hurt Carl or her though. Think Carl’ll understand?”

Daryl just nodded, from the little bit he’s heard of the kid, he seems smart. Way too smart for his own good. “Whadoya’ like, confide in talkin’ to strangers ‘er somethin’?”

Rick let out a small laugh.”Sure. I mean, now I know your name. Not a stranger anymore now, are ya’?”

Daryl shrugged, “don’t know nothin’ ‘bout me.”

“No, not anything you’ve told me, just small things.” Rick crossed his legs. “Tell me stuff then.”

“What are ya’ like, gonna start braidin’ my hair ‘er some shit?”

“I bet Amy or Sophia would,” Rick laughed.

“Amy?”, Daryl asked.

“Oh yeah.” Rick realized, “you don’t know everyone.” He shifted slightly. “You’ll get to know everyone eventually.”

“You’re sayin’ that like I’m staying,” Daryl said.

Rick paused his thinking. “Thought you were.”

“Ya’ never answered the question.”

“Hm?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

There was a pause, shoulders tense on both of them. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Daryl faced Rick. “Then I will.”

Rick looked so accomplished with his proud ass smirk. Pissed Daryl the fuck off.

Daryl sent him a glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be in Rick's POV. Like, how much Daryl is too much Daryl?
> 
> I'll try to get the next part done soon, but ideas are running slightly dry (writing that down made me think of something and now I'm really excited-) and again, my focus is everywhere right now. 
> 
> Being so confused and spacing out 24/7 makes me feel so damn high like-
> 
> Edited: 11/9/20  
> Grammar, cannon-compliance issues, cohesive plot issues


	8. Niiiiiice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's POV for a short time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmm I have an idea but I'm not sure about it... Think I'm gonna go for it though because I have nothing else. 🤷

Nice. When Rick woke up a few days ago and found himself face to face with a pack of walkers, he didn't expect to be saved heroically by a dirty, crossbow wielding man stumbling out of the woods like a drunk (okay, maybe not really stumbling). Really didn’t expect to find out that this man (now named Daryl) found Sophia and actually brought her to the farm. But here he is, sitting in the back of a rusty truck with said man talking about his marital problems.

Daryl was listening, nodding and humming or occasionally saying a small, “ouch,” or, “fuckin’ sucks, man.” Never in the two seconds that Rick got his first look at Daryl did he think it would be a common occurrence to spout out his impending divorce. He definitely didn't expect the dirty man to actually listen. 

And here they were, watching the tree's flick by and feeling the cold air nipping at warm skin. Daryl no-last-name-given is an enigma at its simplest. Who was this man? Last name who? Family where? Place of origin? Childhood? Favorite color? How do you comfortably shit in the woods? You know, pressing matters.

Said man was sharpening a stick (question, when did he get the stick?).

"Whatcha' doing?", Rick asked.

"Shit."

"Uh-huh." Rick watched for longer, seeing how Daryl looked between an arrow and the sharpened stick, comparing. The group had taken pee and food breaks and in the meantime, Glenn had given Daryl his crossbow with an accomplished smile. "Can't you just reuse arrows?"

Daryl paused, then furrowed his brows, sparing Rick a look. What's with him and looking?

"Called bolts n’ some break, some get left."

Oh. Rick nodded, good lord the silence was worse than Lori's looks on a good day.

The truck slowed, the crappy brakes squeaking. He'll have to thank Glenn later from saving him from the awkward air. Out hopped Glenn from the driver's side and Maggie from the passenger. It's so obvious those two are with one another; it would explain why Glenn's scouting trips have gotten longer recently. 

"Everything alright?", Rick asked once he jumped down off of the back of the blue truck and walked up to the RV that was leading.

"Yeah- well, no, not really." Dale took off his hat and used the same hand to scratch his head. "Gas."

Nodding, Rick let Glenn take his place, looking over the RV with Dale as Rick turned to the group. 

"Everyone, RV's out of gas. Check through the cars, try an' syphon fuel. Any food or water you find is helpful too." 

People nodded as Glenn and Dale were repairing some loose shit (he thinks they're just trying to seem useful, they're just sticking their hands in the RV and fiddling with wires), Andrea was keeping lookout on the top of the RV, Amy, Lori, Jacqui, Carol, and Sophia were folding clothes and counting food. Shane was scowling at Daryl as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder and began to saunter off into the woods.

"Hey," Rick jogged up to him, "hunting?"

Daryl nodded, biting his cheek.

"Are you just gonna let him go?", Shane asked after Daryl disappeared into the bushes.

"I don't really have the authority to stop him."

"You're the newly appointed leader; if that hicks gonna be staying he needs to get with the program," Shane hissed, readjusting the gun stationed on his hip.

"He's staying, but I can't stop him from wandering off. Don't have that control over him."

"He's like a damn wild animal and you're a zoo keeper. Ya' can't tame him."

"You're right, I can't, but he is staying. We agreed he would," Rick said, looking out at the abandoned cars clogging up the roads and the occasional bob of Glenn's head from over top of one. Beth and Hershel were sitting together next to the RV, squished together as Maggie went to Glenn, looking around before giving him a small peck. Rick laughed to himself.

"What?", Shane asked, following Rick's eyes to Maggie and Glenn looking at each other like lovestruck teens. "Oh."

"Yeah, s' why supply runs take so long now," Rick softly laughed. Shane joined for a few seconds, laughing a bit before piping back down.

"We gotta figure out Daryl though."

Shane started to walk away, but Rick said, "you know, he is like an animal. If you look close enough and for long enough, you can see the feral nature in him, but I bet he can be reigned in. Ya' look into his face and you can catch well hidden fear."

Shane let that hover in the air before he hummed, walking towards the RV to join Andrea on lookout. Thank God, Shane can be so insufferable, even for Rick. Only take a small dose of Shane or else it'll be too much way too quick.

He heard cheering but didn't pay it much mind, he's thinking, man.

It's possible that Daryl would run, but Rick has a small feeling he won't be. For whatever reason, he thinks Daryl will be back and he will be staying. Thinking about Daryl like a wild animal actually makes understanding the man easier. He could try to approach Daryl as if he was a feral alley cat, might just make Daryl less jumpy? It's just a theory, one that can be tested eventually.

"Hey," Rick heard from behind him suddenly. He jumped, startled, whipping around to see Glenn's grinning face. "We have the RV full of gas now. Time to go."

"Daryl's out," Rick said.

"Figured out his name?", Glenn chuckled, taking a seat next to Rick on the road's barriers.

"Yup, no last name yet. Have you thanked him yet?"

"Nah, when I tried he just always seems to run."

Rick let out a huff-chuckle. "Yeah, from what I've heard out of him- which is at max so far 20 words- he's introverted. Don't ask about anything or he'll probably kick your ass into the ground."

Glenn shifted. "Wouldn't wanna be pummeled. Common, he'll probably be back, let's go to the group, talk about group-y things."

Rick nodded, but the rustling of bushes made the two pause, turning slowly and raising their guns. Glenn's hands were shaking and Rick's senses were hyper aware.

Out sauntered Daryl with leaves and dirt covering him. He peered up through his bangs with a string of squirrels.

"Gon' shoot me?", he taunted.

"Later," Shane sneered from behind. Rick jumped once again.

"Rick? You've jumped twice in the past five minutes," Glenn asked, clocking his head and shoving his gun back into his belt.

Rick puffed out a laugh, "yeah, uh-huh."

Daryl tossed the squirrels onto the ground in the most awkward spot (it was in the middle of the fucking road) and settled down, putting his arms behind his head. Guess it's time to sleep?

Glenn gave a little shrug and left, then Shane left, and then Rick left. Rick believes that Daryl could defend himself with his hands tied behind his back. The fire tonight was warm-ish, the air around them was getting cooler as the sun's rays left the sky.

Looking over one more time, Rick saw Daryl now sitting on the road's barrier, looking out into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 11/9/20  
> Grammar, cannon-compliance issues, cohesive plot issues


	9. Nice Ass, Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casual Rick adoration with blood sprinkled in for spice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Casual Rick adoration with blood sprinkled in for spice.", shit, man (men? I'm talking to all of you... Men). Didn't know where the fuck to end this so it just kinda went on... And on... And on... And on... Then this popped out! Rewrote it like five times though. My brain hurts. 
> 
> So I just got a new computer! My first one in about five years that isn't a hunk of junk; it can actually run some games! Had some fun with this chapter, first thought I would make Rick and the gang just kinda be like, "oop, Woodbury exists?" But now this is here and it's gonna act as a set up for a later plot point. Don't know if you guys care but I could start talking about how I write in a kind of roundabout way so I don't spoil anything? Idk, would you all care? Eh, I just always ramble anyways, what's some more to add to the note, am I right?

A nice wakeup call will be the 'thwip' of Daryl's bolt sitting nicely in a walker's head, yeah?

Everyone was sound asleep, snoring and drooling. The one walker was waddling over to Shane, Daryl's gonna leave it till it's drooling right into Shane's stupid open mouth. It's teeth were gnashing together, making a horrible clicking sound. Despite his hatred for Shane, he can't help but feel itchy the closer it got to Shane.

Damnit, that'll be close enough. 

The arrow made a nice squish as it pierced through the walker's eye, making to gurgle and fall right onto Shane.

He yelped, reaching for the rifle right next to his head and shoving the walker, looking like he thought it was going to bite him. He paused when he realized it had an arrow driven into it's eye socket. His eyes immediately sucked to Daryl, the glare very much prominent.

Everyone else was up by now, looking over Shane before deeming him bite free. 

"What the hell was that, man?!", Shane growled, tossing his rifle down in anger.

Daryl stuck his tongue out like a child.

Okay, that got a few snorts out of the black haired kid, a black male, and Carl. Good to know he's already making points with a few of the members. Rick huffed a small laugh too.

Shane was about to launch himself at Daryl, but one hand up from Rick made him just growl, snatching his gun away from Carol who picked it up for him. She flinched. Daryl recognizes that flinch. Daryl's gonna keep an eye on that.

Dale jumped into the driver's side of the RV and Rick into the passenger. It was unanimously agreed that Shane would take Lori (thanks Rick for pointing out who she was), Sophia, Carol, and Rick's son. The old man with the tan fishing hat would take Rick, Daryl, that one black haired kid he saved from that walker, the dark haired kid's secret girlfriend, Maggie, Beth, Hershel, and a cigarette smelling, beer bellied man with an attitude (Daryl's this close to snapping his neck). The blonde with a good shot would take her sister and that one other lady and the black man. It was a silent agreement to keep Daryl and Shane as far apart as possible. They made two pit stops, one to find gas for Shane's car and now they were stopped to pee and eat.

Everyone else was eating and talking as Daryl was sitting back on the side of the road listening for walkers. It's pathetic, he's pathetic. If Merle could see him he would be getting the tongue lashing of his life. Rick's footsteps could be heard from a mile away.

"Hey," Rick said quietly, bending down to sit next to Daryl.

"Hm," Daryl made a sound equivalent to a greeting.

"How're you holding up?", Rick asked.

"Fine. You?" 

He has to stop caring so much.

Rick sighed. "Decent. Just feel like we're running in circles, got thrown out of our original camp by a herd and now the same thing is happening again. Don't know if we can ever find another place to stay."

"We will, there's somethin' out there."

He has to stop caring so much.

Rick gave him a smile. "You seem so certain."

"Yea'," was all Daryl said on that matter. There's bound to be something out there.

There was a quiet crack and the rustle of leaves in front of the two. It was far, no need to kill the thing making the noise, but Daryl has to go and rethink his existence. He got up, slinging his crossbow and taking his knife out, advancing towards the trees.

"What's out there?"

"Walker. Gonna take 'em out."

Rick nodded. "Be back."

Daryl gave a small jut of his chin. One singular walker isn't an issue, especially with how far away this one is. Daryl's gotta clear his head though. Thinking about Merle can make everything seem one hundred times more sad and awkward.

Merle's a straight up douche, but he's kin. Now he's gone and only Daryl's left. There's no way any other Dixon's could have survived; they were all either in prison, high as fuck or drunk to all hell. They would have died quick. Parts of Daryl wants to be dead as well, he's just so fucking tired. It's the only way he can describe it, just really, really tired. 

He went through all of the monotonous motions: gripping the walkers head and driving the knife into its skull. Wiping his life off on his pant leg Daryl was about to go back to "camp" (camp is a loose term) before he heard the cocking of a gun behind him.

"Don't move," came a meek voice. 

Daryl moved, he turned around to face the person. It was just a skinny boy, maybe around seventeen, no bags under his eyes, clean, cut hair, newly washed coat hanging off of a thin frame. He came from somewhere.

"Daniel?", someone called.

As Daniel turned around to respond. Daryl leapt forwards, gripping the gun and pulling it back, hitting the kid in his face. Daniel's nose cracked under the butt of the gun, making him let go of in favor of holding his bleeding nose. It looked like a goddamn faucet and a lot of the blood got on Daryl's chest and arms. 

Daryl shoved him into the ground, cocking the gun and holding it to Daniel's head.

"Where did'cha come from?", Daryl asked, breathing hard.

"Fuck you," the kid answered.

"Where did'cha come from?", Daryl asked slower.

The kid squeezed his eyes shut. "Go to hell."

Daryl shoved the gun into the back of the kid's knee. 

"Where'd ya' come from, kid?"

Daniel glared, keeping his mouth shut. Daryl curled his lip up, squeezing the trigger, shooting through the kid's knee. Daniel wailed. 

"Tell me," Daryl hissed.

"Woodbury. It's called Woodbury."

Daryl nodded, shoving the gun into his pocket. 

"You got a guy out here?" The kid nodded. "You're gonna call for him once I'm gone, fuckin' got it?"

Daniel frantically nodded, saying, "yeah, yeah, yeah! Thank you, thank you."

Daryl stepped off of the kid, picking back up his fallen crossbow and flipping around, sparing the kid one more look before he rushed into the trees.

Blood coated his chest and arms, but he didn't care. People were close and were dangerous (obviously). The blood was slick, sticking Daryl's shirt to his chest. He busted through the trees, jumping over the road's barrier. 

"What the fuck?", came Shane's voice.

Daryl shoved right by him, running over to Rick.

"He have ta' get outta 'ere," Daryl said breathlessly.

"Is that your blood?", Carl asked.

The two ignored that.

"Are you hurt?", Rick asked.

"Naw, but we gotta go."

"What happened?"

"Found a guy out 'dere. Tried some shit, said he came from a town."

"Let's go, they could help us," the older blonde said.

By this point everyone was up and panicking.

"Daryl's covered in blood!", the black haired kid said.

"Who's is it?", the thin black woman asked.

"Let's all just sit down and talk about this after Daryl gets clean," an old man (not Hershel) said.

Everyone nodded. The old man gestured for Daryl to follow, Rick came with. 

"Daryl, Dale, Dale, Daryl," Rick said. 

Dale stuck out a hand and Daryl tucked his hands in his pockets. Dale just smiled, chuckling nervously and giving Rick a please-help-me look. He pulled out a key chain, grabbing one out of the bunch and sticking it into the little locked cabinet around the back of the RV. A little hose was curled up inside of the cabinet.

Dale handed Rick the keys and returned to the front of the RV. The blood was so sticky, but Daryl felt revolted to wash. 

"Here," Rick said, handing the hose to Daryl, twisting the knob and turning on the hose. "Hurry up, we barely have one tank."

Daryl nodded, just letting the water do the work and wash off the sticky blood. His shirt would always have a large stain on it.

No colder and no warmer was Daryl's expression, just dead. They all were huddled around a fire, talking about everything they did before, Daryl didn't want to be caught up in that, so he just sat on the road's barrier once again. And once again, Rick joined him.

"Are you really okay," he asked.

"Yea'."

"What happened?"

"Kid was pointing a gun at me, turned around when he got called 'n I smashed his nose, grabbed his gun. Shot his knee to get 'im ta' tell me where he came from. Told me, left him.", Daryl said as quick and in as much broken wording as he could.

"Is he dead?"

"Left him 'fir his bud to get 'em. Maybe though."

"Do you think he's gonna tell his people about us?"

"Yea', but we'll be gone by then," Daryl answered. 

"'Aright, let's get goin'," Rick said as he stood up, giving Daryl a hand.

Daryl just stood up, not taking the offered hand. He didn't mind Rick, but he just wasn't ready. Wasn't ready for what? He has no fucking clue. Rick seemed nice enough, not cut out for this world, too innocent and too emotional. Dark curls with lively blue eyes. Yeah, Daryl thought, way too fucking innocent. Rick hadn't seen what Daryl has seen or, if he had, he was really good at feigning that innocence. It would be hard to fake that much sweetness, it was just gushing from him like a damn radiator with heat. 

Lord, he ain't too bad on the eyes either.

Daryl's noticed these thoughts before through his life, of course, thoughts about other boys and shit of the sort. But just now did he decide to actually think about them.

Yup, Daryl thought, eyes immediately catching onto Rick's backside, definitely not hard on the eyes at all.

He could drool over a guy no matter if he's married or not. That sounded wrong… He's gonna be single soon so who cares. It's great to know that this is what Daryl does with the information that Rick's not going to be taken for too much longer. Daryl felt sad from himself. Who stoops this low?

It was normal for Daryl to have blood on him- even human. It was a normal sticky feeling, but just because it was normal didn’t mean it was comfortable. He wrapped the hose back up and twisted the keys that were left in the cabiate door. As he passed Dale and the others, he tossed them to Dale, walking over to his things (crossbow and his ring of squirrels). It was time to go.

They went with the same groups as before, again, keeping Daryl and Shane as far apart as humanly possible. Rick let Glenn into the front with Dale. Rick took a spot next to Daryl in the back of the RV on the bed. Sadness radiated off of him.

“When do you think we can stop moving?”

The world was like it was before. All those years ago when humans ran from threats and followed herds of bison and elk. Nomads were what they were called, Dary thinks, third grade was a blur of pain and sobs.

“Dunno, man. Dunno.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm on S7 Ep13 now? Favorite character list?: Daryl (duh), Rick (fuckin' DUH), Jesus (fuck he's magical), and Negan (way too charismatic and fun, would punch his teeth in if he was real and then laugh or some shit).
> 
> Mostly listened to Lemon Tree by Fool's Garden (the 2009 version going around right now for Among Us animations n' stuff) and a bit of Every Single Night by Fiona Apple, both super good (Every Single Night is definitely more my style though). Do with that information what you will I guess?
> 
> Already working on the smut for this fml so hard-
> 
> Edited: 11/11/20  
> Grammar


	10. Oh Shit Eleven Hours, Bro???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl sleeps, the two boys get along, Ed smells, big fucking maps, lots of talking, and shit be wack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! Another part in two days! Fucking unheard of!
> 
> So, update on the COVID situation: I've been able to get out once again for about two weeks because our quarantine ended, hooray for fast food (I live in a very small, rural town and we don't have services like Uber Eats and stuff)! We're all feeling much better, but it's definitely not good still. Lot's of achey joints and lung aches, sleep is taking me over so bad it feels like I'm dead in the morning. Apparently we don't have COVID though since our tests came back negative, but we had the exact same symptoms my dad did but like okay. Those tests are shit, man. 
> 
> Oh yeah! Already got the smut written for this and OOF IS IT A DUSEY! It's seven pages long. Seven. PAGES. OF. JUST. PORN. Nah, it has a lot of emotions and god, my search history is destroyed. It's realistic, had to do some research to make sure I was right. It's full of, "you sure you want this, bro?"
> 
> What can I say, consent is sexy? :)

Daryl was 90% sure Hershel didn’t tell anyone about his back. Like, no one’s said anything about it.

Why did he first think about that when he woke up? Only the fuckin’ lord knows at this point, as always. They were still on the move from last night, Rick now driving with the cigarette smelling, beer bellied man with an attitude in the passenger side smoking a cigarette with a map carelessly thrown on his lap, ashes from his cig falling onto the laminated paper. Dale and the black haired kid were both sleeping, curled up on the RVs uncomfortable looking dining chairs (they were like little couches). They let Daryl take the bed, what the hell? Rick’s face had pulled into a mighty fine grimace from the smoke fluttering down his throat as the man smoking shoved the map into Daryl’s chest and plopped down in the back on the bed, looking bored as fuck. Daryl wandered into the front, sitting down next to Rick.

“Morning,” Rick greeted.

Daryl gave a non-commential grunt. “Why didn’t ‘cha wake me?”, Daryl asked.

Rick shook his head. “ I didn’t want to, looked like you needed it.”

Daryl shrugged and looked at the map, there were lots of scuffs from pens and pencils, but there were three large, red circles. “What's up with the circles?”

Rick took his eyes off the road for two seconds to dart his eyes to the map, pointing at each circle and saying, “we talked not last night but the night before when you were out, Hershel and his girls know the area well. They’re locations for possible homes. This one,” he pointed at the circle by the far left, “is another farm, we already looked, it’s surrounded with woods and corn fields, no fencing but they did have animals. We took some corn, we’ll be coming back. This one’s,” he pointed to the one on the far right, “a neighborhood, small, really bad to protect, too many alleyways and nothing to get a high view of the area. Now this one,” he pointed to the last circle and curled it with his finger, tapping at it, “is a prison, Hershel says it was medium security, Maggie agreed that it could be the best shot we had. It’s where we’re going now.”

“How long was I out?”, Daryl asked.

“Around- ah, I don’t know… Ten or eleven hours?”

“Ten hours?” Rick nodded. “Jesus,” he mumbled, returning to the map. “Got another map? One’a those big paper ones?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah, in the bag.” Rick nudged his head in the direction of a purple, kids bag. There were pencils and school supplies still shoved in hastily amongst the knives and guns. In the front pouch was what Rick had said after Daryl searched for five minutes. It was a big one, with roads and side roads all crossing in red and blue, washed out from use.

“Where’d ’cha get this?”, Daryl asked, returning to the front seat.

“Police station at the start, before I came to the group,” Rick answered. Oh yeah, he was a pig.

The silence was painful. Rick looked unaffected, he didn’t feel the anxious air apparently. Daryl would rather have someone talking once they’re next to him than just sitting there silently. What will make Rick tell a long story?

“How’d ya’ll all find ya’?”, Daryl asked.

And oh boy did Rick talk. He seemed perfectly content to run his mouth until the sun goes down.

“I was in a coma,” Daryl added in a, “yeesh.” “Woke up to the hospital already overrun. Shane said he had already tried to get me out, said he couldn’t hear my heart beat and couldn’t feel my pulse. He thought I was dead-” How did he not hear your heart or get a pulse? “-and got Lori and Carl out, I can’t ever repay him. He said that he put a gurney in front of my door to hold off the walkers and the feds. Apparently they were going door to door shooting people point blank to stop to spread. It worked, I was alive. Don’t really know how the others got together; Shane said they all just kinda were in the same spot and made a camp. A man and his boy found me, helped me understand what was going on. We were going to go to Atlanta together but he had some unfinished business. I gave him a walkie-talkie but I haven't heard anything back. Glenn helped me out of a tank, I rode a horse right into Atlanta.” Dumbass. “They were scavenging, took me back with them after I got them out of a herd. Got back to Lori, Carl and Shane so I’m not all that mad how I woke up.”

“You just fine?”, Daryl asked.

“What?”, Rick gave him a quick glance.

“You just fine wit’ them’s two?”

Rick squinted at the car ahead of them. It was the red pickup with Shane and Lori in it.

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t all good. Even before the apocalypse we had issues. Wish I could have properly gotten apart from her before she traded me in for Shane.”

“She didn’t trade ‘chu in, man,” Daryl said with a sigh.

“Seems like it.” Rick looked over to Daryl. “Why’d you think that?”

“It’s always somethin’. Sex, money, exhileration, shit like ‘dat.”

Rick had an astonished look on his face.

“What? Got somethin’ ya’ wanna say to my fuckin’ face?”

“Just… Sorry, you were really playing into the whole redneck stigma.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You thinkin’ I can’t say big fuckin’ words?” His hands were turning white with how hard he was pinching the map. Sure, he was pissed off, but he wouldn't  
wreck a perfect map.

“No- I mean- no, I just- sorry.”

Daryl stood up, shoving the map into Rick’s chest with a scowl. “Fuck you too, pig.”

“Daryl-”, Rick started, but was cut off by a middle finger being held up.

Daryl couldn’t really escape in the way he wanted to, he was stuck in this moving fucking vehicle. All of the cups and dishes were plastic, nothing to hit or smash that would be satisfying. So he just stomped in circles. Rick’s worried face still looking back at him through the rear-view mirror. Daryl flipped him the bird again, walking into the little backroom to escape Rick’s gaze.

“Damn fuckin’ city boy…. Fuckin’ cop… Fuckin’ tryin’ shit…”, Daryl growled, putting his hands into the sink to look at himself in the small mirror.

Everything in this damn RV was small. Daryl had large bags under his eyes, dark and gray. Even after ten or eleven hours of sleep he still had huge bags. He feels like it’s kind of the Dixon look. He chewed on his thumb, sending his reflection a growl and a hate filled glare.

He bit a little thing that was stuck under his thumb nail, pulling. He slightly jolted as pain flared in his thumb, blood trailing down his finger. It was like he pulled a plug on a tub, his thumb aching with waves of small pain. He just let it bleed, watching the red trail down his hand. He found some tissue and wiped it off, still staring angrily at his face. He didn’t particularly like his face, actually, he fucking hates it, but then again, he doesn’t like anything about himself. He’s not a good hunter, he’s not enough, he’s bad at everything, he’s a fucking thirty year old virgin for fucks sake!

He poked his head out of the bathroom, finding the chain smoker asleep and Rick slapping his forehead in the front. Daryl sucked the little bit of blood eeking out from underneath his nail before he returned to the front.

“Don’t beat ‘chuself up,” he said.

Rick’s head shot up and gripped the wheel, nearly driving them off the road.

“Jesus.” He looked back at Daryl. “I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t.” Daryl held a hand up, sitting back down in the passenger side.

The road stretched on ahead. But the cars before them slowed, people getting out with awe scratched into their faces. A large prison stood tall, the others in the back coming to the front (minus the smoker), awe just as plain with them too. The group got out of the RV, joining the rest outside. The prison had standing walls, as noted by Jacqui. It had watch towers, it had closed doors, it had…

“Oh God,” Lori said, covering her mouth with a hand.

It had walkers everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 44 pages and 16,000 words in a month is a new record for me. A nice personal best. This is now actually the longest story I've ever written and I'll be damned if I don't finish it now! Thanks for all of the kudos and the comments, I love you guys.❤️ 
> 
> Lord, 1,000 of you guys have read this? Thanks though like- I really don't deserve it! Like, this is just a gay-gay trying their best and you guys are like, "yea, sure". 👀
> 
> (Thanks tho)
> 
> Edited: 11/11/20  
> Grammar, Daryl's accent, me spelling vehicle as "vjicle"


	11. Never Gonna be Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gay panik, Rick being dumb as fuck, walking in on sexy sex, and hallucination Merle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT ONE DAY APPART LOL. Brother, this is not gonna hold for long but lets milk it for all it's worth. 
> 
> So, theres some homophobic language that Daryl thinks of and Merle says. Obviously I don't agree, no duh, I'm such a raging gay like HAH
> 
> This is suuuuuper dialogue heavy, but it's about 1,500 words long. Don't know how I managed that.

Daryl would flank. That was the plan. Rick would run in and all hell would break loose and that’s what was going to happen. Someone would get bit (probably Rick) and Daryl would have been the one to have failed to help. It would be his fault. There’s a difference in a plan and in reality, and that was a damn fine line. Daryl would flank on the left, Shane on the right with Rick in the middle drawing attention. This was the plan. But something would happen, always does. Rick would scream, draw too much attention, and die, Daryl could have helped but he’ll be too slow, he’ll be too scared, he’ll miss or worse, he’ll miss and hit Rick. 

This was the plan, already agreed upon and set. All to do is wait and go with it, tweak the plan based on what’s in front of his face. He’s trying to be pragmatic but failing miserably. They would go in the next morning, when the sun is a finger above the closest watchtower. This was so fucked, the most fucked thing Daryl’s done since Merle… 

No, it’s not worth it.

He buried his face in his hands. A bloody stump, yells and growls, beating heart slowing to a dull, dead hum. Daryl gasped, his breaths coming ragged as he whipped his head up.. No blinking, no dark, he doesn’t want to see that again. Not again. No, no, no. Daryl raked a hand through his hair, bringing the other up to follow and clutch the now longer strands. His whole fucking head hurt.

A crunch sounded from behind him.

“Woah,” Rick said, sounding like he was trying to calm a horse rather than a man with a crossbow trained between his eyes. “Just me.”

“Stop doin’ that. ‘Yer gonna get a bolt to the face.”

Rick sat down next to him.

“Sorry again,” Rick apologized.

“You don’t stop with that shit soon ‘yer really gon’ get a bolt,” Daryl grumbled. Rick had been apologizing for the past hour, the others looked so damn confused. Shane’s face made it manageable.

Rick laughed, but that simmered into a furrowed-eyebrows type of serious look. “You think this is gonna work?”

Daryl paused, all breaths stopping, the birds quit chirping as well.

“Honest or naw?”

“Honest, please. Been dying for an honest opinion and not just, “do what you think is right,”.”

Should he? Sure.

“It’s stupid, real stupid. Anyone could die, mostly you.” Daryl shrugged. “Don’t gotta listen to me though, man.”

“No,” Rick said, “I want your opinion. You’re part of this group, you have an opinion, share it.” Rick said a little softer, “no wrong answers now, just opinions.”

Daryl nodded. “Yea’, yea’, gotcha.” Daryl looked down, “don’t want ya’ ta’ die.”

“And I won’t.”

For some reason, Daryl felt anger flare up. “How do you know that?! Everyone always thinks that and they’re not here! Everyone who thinks that dies!”, he choked on his spit, his breath ragged. One of the last things Merle said was, “not gonna die, lil’ bro’,” but he lied. He isn’t here. He isn’t fucking here.

Everything went to a stand still again. 

Daryl muttered, “sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Rick said slowly, scared to step too far. “That was from experience, wasn’t it?”

Daryl doesn’t think he could ever stay mad for long at Rick. Not only was he dashingly good looking, he was sweet. Again, with the innocence. How do you stay that human as the world's ending? Daryl had long lost that part that made him human, he voiced this.

“‘Yer so goddamn human.”

“What’s that mean?”, Rick asked, facing Daryl.

“‘Yer just human. Dunno how ta’ explain, ‘s just human. The mercy, the humanity.” The social aspect.

“Thank you?” Rick made it sound like a question, Daryl huffed a small laugh, looking down before his smile was seen, but not fast enough. Rick saw and his infectious smile widened into a grin. “‘Ya can smile. Thought all of those frown lines were permanent.”

That made Daryl’s smile slip away. He honestly doesn’t remember the last time he did smile. He thinks it was at his mom. She wasn’t drunk nor high for once, she had an easy, loving smile as she looked down at Daryl. That was when Daryl was around five, when he had really learned that his father wasn’t ever going to love him. His mom was bad, but she wasn’t bad-bad.

“Sorry,” Rick whispered.

“Fuckin’- you say sorry one more damn time ‘n ‘yer gonna be grinded up inta’ lil’ meat patties,” Daryl hissed.

It was quiet for a bit, crickets and shifting grass with the quiet groans from the walker-infested prison.

“Wanna talk about it?”, Rick asked.

“‘Bout what?”

“What that was about, who you are.”

“I’m nobody, ‘yea? And no, don’t wanna,” that wasn’t all he really wanted to say, his throat was too tight though to say anything about Merle.

“You’re making yourself somebody,” Rick said. “What did you do before?”

“Does it matter?”, Daryl growled through clenched teeth.

“No. Might be better to talk ‘bout it again.”

“What, diggin’ up old shit ‘dat don’t need ta’ be?”

Rick nodded, maybe silence was best. Crickets and the smell of rot, not a likely mixture. Well, maybe just a mixture you don’t really want. One was calming while the other one meant death. Then again, everywhere you go smells like death, just so happens here is where it smells the worst. Smells worse than the beer Pa would let brew for years, and that’s not a lie, once some was left for five years just sitting in the garage.

“We were both nobodies, drifters. ‘Dat’s it.”

Daryl got up, wandering into the woods. Needs to think, they’re low on food anyway. Rick sat quietly, not moving to come after him, but just keeping watch, staying vigilant. It was cold, winter was getting closer, very much closer. It was going to be a cold one this year, it already stunk of snow and freezing water. Moans sounded through the woods, strained and failingly trying to keep quiet. Female, maybe in pain. 

He followed, it could be someone in distress, could be those Woodbury fucks trying to get someone. Smaller footprints, not a child, but not large were walking deeper into the woods, then a larger pair merged in, following. Getting closer to the sounds really puts into perspective how loud they are, or maybe they just got louder. Dark hair splayed out on the ground, bodies moving together, Jesus. It was Shane and Lori, Shane was… Fuckin’ hell.

Flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area, flee the area.

Oh lord did Daryl run, face on fire, shoulders tense. That was something no one has to ever see, ‘specially by your enemy. They didn’t hear him, right? They didn’t hear him? God please don’t let them have noticed him. Then again, they were fucking, they were distractied. They probably didn’t. Probably didn’t. Daryl skittered up a tree, light moans still sounding from behind him. Is sex really like that? It seemed… Aggressive. Does it hurt? Is it good? What feels good? What’s it like? Is it always so aggressive? Lori gasped and Shane growled, then nothing. Were they done? Was that it? Is that all that sex is? Just angry snapping of hips?

How do two men do it?

You need a hole, right? So’s the only hole a guy has is… Oh Jesus no. That’d be gross. Daryl’s talked to gay people before (behind Merle’s back) at bars or clubs. The ones he found were easy to pick out. At the bars, they didn’t have a girl in their laps, usually they were looking at chests of guys quickly or sipping beer quietly while the rest of their group was drinking and slapping girls' asses. At clubs they just looked like they wanted to die, they were bored, they were tired. When he talked to them, they were super polite and nice, like a normal human. He doesn’t get why Merle was so against them, they seemed like pretty nice company. Maybe that makes him a queer too. Merle always said that they would, “turn you into a fag,” that they would, “make you suck dick.” The people Daryl talked to did neither of those.

Maybe he was already a fag?

No, impossible. Not a Dixon. Never been a queer in the family, nope. He let out a breath, everyone was already dead, all of the other Dixons were dead, so…

“Better not fuck up mah’ name, Darleena,” Merle hissed. He was sitting right there, right in front of Daryl, physical, real.

“Merle?”, Daryl whispered. “‘Yer-’yer-”

“Shud’up. Don’t rub salt in the fuckin’ wound. Don’t shit on mah’ name.”

Blink once, he was still there. Blink twice, he was gone.

“Merle,” Daryl called. “Merle! Get the fuck back ‘ere!”

Nothing came, no one. Daryl dipped his head, his gasping breaths warming his nose. Shockingly hot tears fell down his cheeks, even in death, he won’t ever be free from Merle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm gonna chill, gonna chill with the advancements with Daryl and Rick and try to get Daryl buddies with Carol because :)
> 
> Edited: 11/11/20  
> Grammar, cannon-compliance issues, cohesive plot issues, word usage


	12. Project Clear The Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl reflecting on his life, Carol pointing out the obvious, Rick being so non-secretive it hurts, Author's ass hurting from writing all day, and Shane being Shane (some Lori too I guess).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2,280 words long this chapter is. 😬  
> Enjoy

Daryl had been seeing Merle every now and again, just out of the corners of his eyes. Sneering, flipping Daryl off if he was talking to Rick or even just sitting near him. Today was the day though, time for Project Clear The Yard.

Carol walked up to him, she was in charge of watching the kids, to keep them away from any stray walkers.

“Are you ready?”

Daryl looked at her, she was good. “Naw, naw not really.”

She smiled, “worried for yourself or for Rick?”

Daryl snapped his eyes over to her with his brows furrowed. Huh?

“Jus’ fine. Don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Carol wore a knowing grin. “Uh huh. You know, I’ve seen you two, you both look good.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes. “What’cha tryin’ ta’ get at, lady?”

“Well you know, Rick’s single, you’re single, you both look at each other like Romeo and Juliet." She was leading side to side like a little girl.

“I- naw, he don’t-” Daryl paused, looking around. “He really be lookin’ at me?” 

Carol laughed. “Look harder at him, you might see it yourself.” She looked over Daryl’s shoulder. “He’s looking now.”

God, this was like two teenage girls gossiping at a sleepover. Daryl looked over, seeing Rick just talking to Shane, probably going back over the plan. Daryl sent Carol a look.

“Are you ready?”, he asked her.

“Yeah, I’m worried for everyone, you know?”

“Probably a mother thing,” Daryl said quietly.

“Are you trying to fool me or yourself that you’re not worried?”, she asked it like a real question, but she already knew.

Rick and Shane wandered over, Rick nodded at Carol and bore his eyes into Daryl’s skull.

“Ready to go?”, he asked.

Daryl looked up, squinting lightly through the sun’s rays answering with, “yea’.”

Daryl got up from his perched position on a cooler, Rick thrusted a small handgun into his hands, out of view of Shane.

“Take it just in case," he said, making sure Daryl tucked it in and offered a nod. “It has three shots.”

Daryl nodded back. He felt a little tug at his chest as Rick walked back to Shane. It wasn’t jealousy, he knows what that feels like, it was something else. Jealousy felt like someone threw up on you, a distinct kind of disgust, it was an unpleasant feeling. This was warmer, not uncomfortable, but not comfortable either, just warm and cozy almost. Daryl bit at his thumb, not knowing what that was made him even more nervous. Carol was being cornered by the chain smoker, the fuck blowing smoke in her face. She was strong, but this was breaking that, she was so obviously terrified. There was a bag of guns still left out on the tail of Shane’s truck. Daryl took out a rifle.

“Carol,” he called, holding up the gun as he shrugged past the beer-bellied aggressor. “Need ‘chur help.” Daryl shoved the gun into Carol’s chest. “Common.”

Carol sent Beth a look, who nodded and called over the kids. Good girl, she is. Carol held the gun kind of awkwardly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Do ya’ know how ta’ use a rifle?”, Daryl asked, ignoring the thanks.

“I was just learning. I haven’t gotten too far yet.”

Daryl looked back at her as they walked down the road towards the prison. A walker was ahead, just a ways away.

“Try ta’ kill ‘dat,” he said, jutting his head towards the walker.

She took aim, posture was good, slightly hunched, but good. She fired, nicking it’s throat. 

Daryl hummed nodding. “Again.”

She fired again, hitting the walker clean in the skull. It fell back, motionless even as they walked up on it. Daryl shifted through it’s pockets, finding, luckily, cigarettes. After he had that all nighter smoking night at the farm, he’s been low, only had one left. The pack he found had five. There was a flask too, he shook it, still had some left inside. He took it too, never know when alcohol will come in handy. Carol had given him a disapproving look when he took both.

“Are you trying to kill yourself faster?”, she asked.

Daryl hissed back, “‘yea, got somethin’ to fuckin’ say?”

Daryl’s noticed he’s been saying that a lot more than normal. She furrowed her brows, shaking her head. He huffed, nodding as he pocketed the flask. Even with Merle’s buddies he didn’t say that this often. Carol scoffed, adjusting her hold on the rifle before beginning to walk towards the prison again. Daryl followed in suit, but not before scowling and kicking the dead walker. Rick and Shane were over by the fences, waiting for Daryl. 

“Jesus, took you long enough,” Shane growled.

“Hey,” Rick waved. “Carol, how are the kids?”

Carol nodded as Daryl said, “she’s gonna snipe ‘fur us. Got good aim.”

Shane didn’t even try to hide his incredulous look, Rick’s eyebrows shot up, but he nodded.

“I trust your judgement, Daryl,” he said, returning to look at the fence.

That little flutter returned, it pulled and swayed. It wasn’t affection, that was… Well, to be honest, Daryl doesn't really know how that feels like. He hasn’t really had a situation quite like this before for… Obvious reasons (the apocalypse). They snipped through the fencing with a clicking sound.

“Carol,” Rick said after he, Shane, and Carol clammored through, “go to the guard tower and shoot from there only if necessary."

She nodded as Daryl slipped through the small opening, hissing as his cheek got cut on a sharp wire. It was deep, not too terribly, but enough that it bled well. Rick’s head snapped up in surprise when Daryl let out a small growl, dabbing at the cut.

“Are you okay?”, he asked, slowly raising his hand up to turn Daryl’s head to the side.

Oh Jesus, too close, too close, too close!

“Yea’, man. ‘M good,” Daryl said, biting the inside of his cheek as Rick backed off.

“Alright.” Shane was standing there with his eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Shane,” Rick said, gaining the attention of the man in question. Rick was looking between Shane and Daryl with a calculating gaze before going to a nearby locked gate, cutting the chain with a padlock on it with the bolt cutters like he did the fence. The open gap in the outer fence made Daryl worry with his lip. 

That’ll so bite us in the ass.

Daryl met Carol’s eyes, she knew something was up just like Rick did and hadn’t headed for the tower yet. Daryl pointed to the watch tower, nodding towards it. She nodded, not asking questions which was… Strange. Nonetheless, Daryl was thankful.

Daryl thinks Merle knew about Daryl not being interested in girls. Yeah, Merle definitely knew. Merle would try to set up Daryl with women, until suddenly, he just stopped. When Daryl just turned thirteen, Merle got him a hooker from the real bad side of town. There was a good side, middle side, bad side, and real bad side of town and Merle chose the most skeezy side. She had tried to come down on Daryl, money is money after all and Daryl had tried to get it up, but it wasn’t really working. She noticed (of course she did) and was confused, but still tried, bit his neck up a storm before he finally told her to stop, basically panicked and begged her. She jumped off of him like a frog on a hotplate. Her name started with an ‘E’, that’s all Daryl can really remember. She was a pretty little thing, long, orange hair with emerald eyes. On all accounts, she was a beaut’, but Daryl just wasn’t interested. He spilled his whole story that night. She listened, nodding and putting a hand on his shoulder. She told him he was okay, that he wasn’t a freak, that it was normal to feel like this. She was wrong, of course.

Why did he think about this all of the sudden? Rick was giving Daryl glances. They weren’t normal. Usually Daryl couldn’t see people’s emotions, they were always covered in a thick film of anger. Rick’s look showed his emotions like they were on his sleeve, he was worried, worried for Shane and Carol, worried for Lori and Carl and worried about this place not being right. Could they handle being out on the road for much longer? Lori was progressively getting slower and more exhausted, Hershel’s back was acting up, the smoker’s temper was nothing to be trifled with, Shane’s looks were more aggressive than ever, and everyone was breaking apart. Winter coldness was creeping in, a constant reminder of the frozen wasteland soon to come. It would be cold this year, exponentially cold. He should tell Rick. They should stalk up on meat and water, on ammo and knives before the freezing kicks in.

The door creaked open from where Shane and Rick were getting ready to move in. A quick look at the guard tower showed Carol in position, carefully watching them inch into the infested yard. Daryl veered off to the left whereas Shane went to the right, the three of them in a big triangle. Two pigs and a redneck working together in the apocalypse, Merle would be wheezing. Two cops and a Dixon, what a joke. Daryl laughed softly at the train of thought, it was something he would have never expected. The end of the world does with shit, man. What’s even better is that one of those cops is swooning over Daryl’s every move! Does Rick even know how obvious he is (Daryl didn’t even notice Rick’s looks until Carol pointed them out, so Daryl can’t really think much here)? Even now Rick was still giving Daryl glances. Looking forward, to Shane, then back, then to Daryl, then back, then to Daryl, then back to the walkers growling around him, then Shane, then Daryl. Merle would say something like, “the pigs gonna trip over ‘is own feet at ‘dis point, little brother!”

One secret weapon the two brothers had: observational skills. Daryl couldn’t stop being observational whereas Merle had to actually try to be observational, though. Two sides of the same coin. That skill is what made Merle a really good dealer, but he was also shit because of the sheer amount of times he got caught. 

Rick was taking down each walker that drew near, Shane was taking down others that could come in from the right and corner Rick and Daryl was keeping an eye out for anyone who was being circled. He took down a walker that was right in front of him, it was wearing a guards uniform. “George S.” his name tag read. Daryl likes to figure out who the walker was before. Was it curiosity? Was it the observational weapon kicking his ass? Was it some godly force from above telling him to do so? No, it wasn’t that. Daryl was stupid, but even he had to draw the line somewhere; gods existing was that line. 

Shane was doing fine, Rick was getting slightly overwhelmed, so Daryl loaded his crossbow (with a decent amount of struggle with his cold fingers) and fired, taking down three before he ran out of bolts. In the back of the truck, he was only able to make about two to accompany his one from when he was with Sophia. That reminds him, he has to check in on her.

He stored that little thought in his brain as he came back to the real world. Rick was close to the end of the yard, a few walkers blocking his way. He fell as a walker shot out from under a nearby car, it was broken down, trapping the walker between the concrete and the car’s underbelly. The gun Rick handed him felt heavy in his pocket. He abandoned his spot, three shots and there were five walkers surrounding Rick. Daryl whacked two walkers out of the way with his crossbow’s butt. Daryl took out the handgun as he dropped the crossbow, it would just slow him down. A shot fired off and the one walker between Daryl and Rick dropped, Carol had a damn good aim. Shane was jogging over now, slashing at the walkers in his path as well. Daryl took one shot at a walker trying to take a bite out of Rick, the closest one to Rick’s flailing body. Another shot went to the walker holding Rick’s ankle captive and the last went to a walker that was waddling over from behind. Shane picked off the last two with his gun’s butt.

Daryl held out a hand for Rick.

“Thanks,” Rick thanked Daryl, taking the offered hand. “Guess we’re even.”

Daryl cocked his head, “wha’?”

“I saved your life you saved mine.”

Daryl grumbled, “stop makin’ me have ta’ save yer’ life, ‘den.”

Rick smiled his eyebrows raising as an amused look plastered onto his face. “Uh-huh. If you’re staying, it’s good to know what we get into.”

Daryl’s hand was still in Rick’s. He pulled it away, the warmth of Rick’s fingers leaving his own as Daryl fought the sigh of discontent pushing it’s way up his throat. Not a pansy, he reminded himself. Relief flooded his veins as Rick’s hard gaze snapped over his shoulder, the others were here, Carol leading them. 

“Think it’ll work?”, Lori asked as she hugged her son to her leg.

Rick turned back to Daryl, then turned all the way around to gaze up at the top of the prison, squinting through the sun. 

“Yeah,” he said, turning around once again. “Think it will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmm, more Carol and a bit of Sophia and maybe some Ed smashing in the next part? I need Daryl to start being introduced to the others, though, but Daryl being anti-social is really kicking my ass. I mean, Like, I specialize in character suffering, you know? Character talking to knew people is hard because I wouldn't do that, social anxiety and all. Hmmmm...
> 
> I thought about how I would want Merle to react to Daryl being the homo and I said to myself, "I want Merle to be nice to Daryl," then I realized I killed him off before this story even started and I cried.
> 
> I have a rough idea for this, you know? I know kinda what's going on right now and I do have and endgame, but it's just hard getting there. This is the longest story I've ever made, 55 pages long and about 19,000 words (holy shit already?), so yeah. This is like the first time I've ever really done a story quite like this.
> 
> Edited: 11/11/20  
> Word usage, misspelling shit


	13. Hello, Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn talks at Daryl, Daryl helps with laundry, Daryl listens to the ladies talk, and he learns new people's names via Carol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this done yesterday, but I like spacing my parts out at least a day so I have a small amount of time to get working on the next part. The only times I'll break this things is when I had a long break once and I want to say sorry. :)

The cells remind Daryl of a harder time. A time where he was being held in juvie. The cells were slightly different than the medium security cells they were moving into now, the juvie cells were nicer, slightly bigger, but worse in all aspects. It always smelt of tears and fear, it was loud and the pillows were like cement. The blankets were hard and heavy as a goddamn brick. It was like they were trying to hold him down using a blanket, to keep him bound to his bed until morning. 

The world ending made life easier in most aspects for Daryl. He was used to surving alone (now alone, since Merle was stupid), Daryl did better when alone. He was quicker, quieter, less worried all the fucking time for people he  _ doesn’t even know _ ! Seriously, he wants to punch himself so hard. He already cares for a select few of the group's members, obvious number one, Rick, no matter how hard he tries, he does indeed care, Rick  _ saved his damn life already _ , and Sophia and Carol. It was a very small list. Shane can go suck Daryl’s  _ fat fucking cock _ and he didn’t really know the others; Beth seems sweet, Maggie is bold, and Hershel is trustworthy with secrets. Rick, Carol, and Hershel hold Daryl’s respect.

“Hey,” came a little chirp from behind him. Daryl was working to make more bolts, the three he had before (and one broke) was just abysmal. “I’m Glenn. I’m the guy you shot that walker off of back at the farm? The first one at least.”

Oh yeah, little black haired kid. He had shot this Glenn’s walker, then the walker that Rick was under and then went over and helped the older blonde with a good eye and Carol kill the bunch that surrounded them. Daryl made a little huff, shrugging slightly.

“No, really, thanks,” Glenn said, plopping down next to Daryl with a small thump on the cooler.  _ Ehhhh he was brushing Daryl’s leg with his leg- _ “I wouldn’t have been able to spend time with Maggie if you hadn’t come right then. You also brought Sophia back for us! That’s just, two badass things in a few seconds!”

Daryl shrugged in a  _ it-was-nothing-now-this-conversation-is-over _ kind of way. The kid didn’t get the hint.

“Really, that was bad-” he paused as he saw Carl’s gaze snap up, “-A. Super cool.”

Daryl nodded once again, angrily taking strips off of the stick he was working with. Carol- _ oh god his lifesaver _ \- came over with her lips sucked in, fighting a grin.

“Daryl, I need you,” she said sweetly.

Daryl hummed and shot up as fast as he could. Others were watching as he stiffly, not so sneakily, ran away like a bat out of hell. Carol was now sporting a huge grin as the two opened the gate and slipped through another opening (Daryl said “ _ don’t put more than once breech in the fence _ ” and what did they do) and made their way to the small stream with a mini dock on it. The older blonde with a good eye, the younger blonde, and a thin woman were chatting up a storm as they did laundry.

“Help,” Carol said as she thrusted a basket into Daryl’s arms.

Daryl scrunched his eyebrows together. The other three’s chatter calmed down as they watched the two. Carol narrowed her eyes, cocking her head. 

“Have you ever done laundry?”

Daryl nodded, then shrugged. He kind of did.

“How do you do laundry, but you don’t do laundry?”, the skinny woman said.

Carol pointed at each, going from the left of the dock to the right. “Andrea,” blonde with a good shot, “Amy,” younger blonde (sister?), “Jacqui,” the thin woman, “Daryl,” Carol gestured to Daryl.

The girl’s were quiet before they all of the sudden hooted. They were hooting about his lack of sleeves. Oh lord… The lack of sleeves was usually because of hunting accidents or he didn’t bring a rag for his bolts. They’re hooting and whooping like it’s a style (kind of is).

“So, hotshot,” Jacqui said, breaking the hooting (finally), “how do ya’ do laundry, but not?”

“‘S usually on mah’ body,” he said, placing a shirt into the chilly water before scrubbing it with a dollop of soap. They didn’t have any more scrubbers.

They hooted again once (luckily it was only once).

“Careful, girls,” Carol warned, pointing at them with a soapy finger, “Rick’s already got eyes on him.”

Their mouths turned into ‘O’s as their eyebrows raised. Amy was the first to laugh. 

“Good on him,” she said, sending Daryl a small wink.

Is this better than being on the talking side of Glenn? Daryl honestly doesn’t know. Carol said something about Daryl having no game (she used different words of course) and then they started talking about life before. 

No one asked him anything, just let him work until Amy looked over at him, her hair flipping over her shoulder. “I have a question,” she said. The other’s eyes were glued on Daryl. “You have hardly said anything yet, what did you do before? Do you have any family?”

Daryl paused his scrubbing. Amy was sweet and curious as a ten year old, this was super pure. She’s like- what? In her twenties and Daryl’s brain is still acting like she’s twelve. 

“Didn’t do nothin’, road ‘round with my brother.”  _ Boom, two birds with one stone _ .

“”Road around”?”, Jacqui questioned, “are you a biker?”

Daryl hummed, nodding as he went back to scrubbing what looks to be one of Carl’s shirts. More hooting followed that answer.

“Can I ride with you?”, Amy asked, making Andera shoot up from the pants she was working on.

“No! You’re not going to be doing that,” she said, immediately shutting down Amy’s idea.

“Would if I had a bike,” Daryl said, sparing Amy a look.

They went back to talking. They were saying shit about dildos or something, sounded like they had this conversation before. They were laughing and wheezing when Carol asked Daryl if he had a dildo, he said no, no he didn’t. Which was half true. Merle had robbed a sex shop and tossed a pink dildo at Daryl’s head once he got back. Daryl kind of wishes he was back with Glenn. A nice pile of fresh, only mildly stained clothing was inside of Daryl’s bucket (it was a clothes basket according to Carol), ready to be dried.

“Come,” Carol said, booking no room for argument.

The five of them all got up, knees wet and fingers frozen. Daryl must have been the warmest- or at least the least affected- judging by the fact the ladies were all shivering in their boots. Boots, hmmm… It would be good to get everyone trail boots with nice traction. Daryl has to scout around anyways. Everyone besides Daryl, Rick, and Shane had either converse or slipper type shoes, nothing with a nice amount of traction or thick souls. He bets those shoes everyone else are wearing could be bent super easily so that the heel was touching the toe. Carl and Sophia had tenies, so that’s at least better.

Talking of Sophia, she came over with Beth and Carl in tow, they were all eager to help. Eight dirty people hanging up wet, dripping clothes. What a sight. These clothes better be dried by tomorrow morning or else they’ll find themselves inexplicably on Mars.

Rick was talking with Hershel, as they were bent over a little patch of land. Darly cocked his head, watching as they talked about something, gesturing to the small plot of grass. They straightened up, Hershel nodding and slapping Rick on his shoulder. That was Daryl’s cue to avert his gaze and continue to the gate. Rick was so loud as he came up behind him.

“What are you doing?”, he asked. Daryl bristled.

“What’s it to ya’?”, Daryl hissed.

“We need to keep track of where people are going in case they get in trouble,” Rick answered, putting his hands on his hips. “So, where are you going?”

Daryl pulled on the chain connecting to the gate, raising it up before he handed it to Rick, Rick took it, holding it open.

“You can’t stop me,” Daryl said.

“Sure,” Rick nodded, “but it’d be good to know.”

Daryl growled and rolled his eyes, staring at the ground as he turned to slightly face Rick through the bars of the gate. 

“Scoutin’, lootin’,” Daryl provided as he flipped back around, stomping away.

“Alright,” Rick said as Daryl got farther and farther away.

_ Who does he think he is tryin’ that shit on me? _

“ _ Tryin’na tame you, little brother, _ ” Merle said, hands raised in a jazz hands sort of sense. 

_ Well he can’t _ . Not one Dixon has ever been controlled and Daryl wouldn’t be the first one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How tf do you end story parts???
> 
> Just realized recently the brunt of my parts are learning about Daryl's past (kinda).
> 
> Edited: 11/11/20  
> Grammar, word usage


	14. Soda or Pop?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl scouting/looting. Daryl thinking. Daryl being sad. Carl and Sophia being sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to get this up yesterday but my internet shit out riiiiight as I clicked upload. I screamed so loud.

The streets were desolate. Daryl could syphon some gas and set up a car? A truck or a van would be good. This place looked like Daryl’s hometown, he can imagine the dusty streets being filled with drunks and prostitutes, the air dark, the only thing lighting your way being the flickering of half dead streetlights. That would be an example of the bad part of town, the really bad part had more shooting and screaming. He really doesn’t miss it. 

He and Merle had grown up like weeds in the mountains, about an hour away from town, so, technically, he didn’t have a hometown. They didn’t hunt for fun once Pa died, they hunted for food, Merle was always too drunk or high (or both) to work and Daryl was following in his brother’s steps. He hadn’t ever done drugs, he didn’t go that far (maybe a lick of weed once or twice but that wasn’t too intense), alcohol forced its way through Daryl’s veins like his father, though, so Daryl was usually also too drunk to work. It was a struggle, being drunk and hunting, but Daryl could usually pull through the heat and haze of his hangovers. Merle was useless when it came to hunting, tromping over tracks and stomping around, scaring all the game away. So usually Daryl went alone, bow fishing and hunting.

A dusty bar had bikes lined up, one group of cruisers, and another of sport bikes, they had riders laying around them, shot. He kept that in mind, maybe he could syphon fuel for a truck or a van to bring back a motorcycle to the prison? He only had an open back to carry supplies back, not nearly enough room for the things he wants to find. Food, water, clothing, and those shoes he was thinking about. Of course lady products and toiletries were welcome. 

The first place he looked was a gas station. It had cigarettes, snacks, and water bottles. He also found a jerrycan, perfect. No doubt he could probably find a hose to use in a shop or something. If not, he didn’t go too far from the prison, so he could always just run on hardly any gas. 

From what he saw on the map those two days ago in the RV with Rick, there should be another small- but bigger- town a few miles out from the prison. It had an airport, maybe it has a mall, hopefully it has un-looted grocery stores. This place Daryl was at right now was less of a town as it was a strip of homes and stores on a long, flat road. Like a pitstop turned into a half residential area.

He was able to get that jerrycan, the cigs, more snacks (just a few bags of trail mix but hey), and one more bottle of water (that made the count go to four water bottles). No hose though. The bar with the bikes out the front was the last thing Daryl checked. Dipping into the half open door, Daryl slunk around, crossbow in hand. More bodies with bike helmets and jackets, they had guns on them too, some in their hands and others with them spilling out of their pockets. He kicked each, but none moved, none woke back up which was- obviously- good. The reanimation process was never pretty. Daryl shivered, seeing gray, bloodshot eyes, feeling a slowing heartbeat under his hands, smelling blood and vomit, tasting more bile. _None of that_ , he said to himself, lightly slapping his own cheek. 

There was still alcohol here, which is nice. Daryl doesn’t know if he wants to guzzle it down right now and die or save it for later. He made a promise, of course. Was that promise already broken, though? His brother’s dying wish, already broken in less than five months (he’s kept track, it’s been four months, three weeks, and six days). He pulled a backpack off of the ground, knocking the glasses of booze into the bag, not even caring that some fell onto the ground, crashing and shattering. He broke the one promise that actually mattered, not any of the others, just the one that mattered. What’s the point?

_Bringing back some food and damn clothes for those kids_.

He hasn’t shared any of the squirrels he hunted, just cooked them for himself and left those poor fucking kids to starve and live off of quarters of manderin oranges in cans. There was a vending machine in front of Daryl. He could spare some soda for the kids. Daryl first checked the slot at the bottom, nothing. He murmured some swears to himself, walking around the soda machine a few times to find an opening. The thinnest part would be the front, but even that’s not thin, so he can’t just pile drive it or something. Looking around, he found a large stone, it was smooth, but heavy as fuck. First he tried throwing it at the front, then the sides, tossing the stone about five times at each side. Second, he tried scraping at the front, no. Third, he ran forward with the stone in hand, ramming it into the front. The second time he did, he hit a spot that was caved in from him throwing it, more fragile than the other parts, it caved farther, splitting. Daryl huffed, about ready to try again before he saw the split. All he had to do now was split it farther. He worked at it with the stone for about twenty minutes.

Once it was big enough to reach in, he grabbed as much as he could, making it out with ten cans of different sodas. Two root beers, two orange, two grapes, one Mt. Dew, two Sprites, and one cream soda. Should definitely be enough for himself and the kids probably for a while if he really wanted to be charitable. Daryl snapped one open, taking a long drink and finishing it, crushing the can and tossing it away. It was orange flavored, but it was one of the good orange flavors. Now he had nine.

Daryl’s bag was brimming with soda and alcohol, with some water and snacks mixed in. It was heavy, really heavy. This booze is _his_ ; no one is gonna get _any_ of this. There were a number of vans and trucks he could check for gas and he’ll pick the one with the most gas. He’ll grab himself a nice cruiser from out front too. He looked through each truck and van he could find for keys and gas for over thirty minutes, crying softly to himself once he found one that had both. It had the keys still in the ignition and gas still in the tank- mind you, only a bit. He grabbed himself a cruiser and used wooden boards from the back of another truck to get it up and into the tail of the blue truck he was taking. Daryl strapped it down with a net and some ratchet straps he picked up from a van.

When he turned the keys and started up the old, piece of shit truck, a song blared through the speakers, overly cheerful. He scrambled to switch it off. One, that was dangerous for it to be that loud, two, it sucked, and three, he didn’t want to think so hard about how that was the last song someone ever listened to. It was quiet as Daryl drove back to the prison. He thought about Merle, thought about before, thought about Rick and what to do with him. He might just leave, pay off his debt with the group with food and protection and scouting and then bolt. He might snatch some medicine and water and give them food and a shit ton of clothing in return. Trade resources for resources except not a trade because he wouldn’t ask, he would just take it and run the fuck away.

Yeah. Yeah, that sounds fine.

  
  
  


As he was pulling up to the gate of the prison, Shane and Rick were already down there, rifles in hand pointing at Daryl. 

“Ya’ gonna always do this?”, he hissed as he slid out of the truck.

Rick let out a weak laugh, lowering his rifle. Daryl rounded the truck, pulling out the full bag.

“What’s that?”, Rick asked.

Daryl sighed. “Shit.”

Rick seemed to take that as an answer, not pressing further. Shane was watching the two with narrowed eyes, finger still on the trigger of his rifle. _And he called himself a cop_. Rick turned with Daryl following him and talking about something or another with Shane hot on his tail, shoulders brushing as Shane stewed in his… Anger? Jealousy?

“The others have already filled cells with their belongings,” he said, “there’s a bunch left, you are more than welcome to take one.”

Daryl felt bad. At least that’s one thing. They’re so willing to integrate him into their group (well, _most_ are). He feels bad for them, feels bad at what he has to do. He’ll pay them back, he thinks, it’s fine.

Rick was looking at him for an answer.

“What?”, Daryl growled as he adjusted his hold on the backpack.

“Are you hurt?”, Rick asked.

Daryl shrugged, honestly, he doesn’t know. Adrenaline is one hell of a painkiller. Rick’s hand brushed Daryl’s as he reached out. Daryl ripped his wrist away, spinning around to growl out, “tha’ fuck ya’ doin’, man?”

Rick’s brows furrowed and he crossed his arms. “Making sure you’re okay.”

No, _no_ , this fuck is trying to make sure he’s not _bit_.

“‘M not fuckin’ _careless_ ,” Daryl hissed, “‘M not _bit_ . Wouldn’t ever come back if I _was_.”

Rick’s arms fell to his hips, one hand on a hip and the other down by his side, head cocked.

“I know. I’m making sure _you’re_ okay.” Rick pointed at Daryl.

_Oh. Oh._

Daryl paused, holding back the surprise he felt to scoff, hunch his shoulders, and speed walk to the prison with Rick following and Shane still following him. Damn, at this point Daryl’s going to have a hole in the back of his head with the burning glare Shane’s giving him. 

_What’s the fuckin’ problem with him anyways_?

If Daryl was a real Dixon, he wouldn’t have let Rick off so easy. If Daryl was a real Dixon, he would have already killed Shane or, at the least, pummbled his ass for his looks. If Daryl was a real Dixon he wouldn’t be such a fucking _fairy_. Rubbing his eyes with a small sigh, he walked up to a door, thick and metal, and turned to Rick.

“Lead the way,” Daryl mumbled. He wasn’t looking to be lost in these halls. 

Merle had said that prison halls were far worse than juvie halls, which is terrifying because juvie halls are so twisty and turny that it was like a worm caved them out. Daryl’s definitely intimidated and didn’t want to go in, but he wasn’t gonna be no pussy and winter was setting in. Rick lead through dark halls, going on about how they were still in the process of taking out the halls around the cell block they claimed. Rick said they ran into a group of prisoners. Tomas, Axel, Oscar, Andrew, and Big Tiny. Rick said to be careful around them. Daryl nodded. 

Rick said how the guard towers could be a good lookout point and asked for Daryl’s opinion. Daryl hummed, nodding, noting how they would need to clear out the trees, burn them or cut them down. There was no point to a lookout of there was a shit ton of trees in the way. Rick nodded, thanking Daryl and saying they would start with that soon. 

“Carl,” Rick called and Daryl winced, the echo was horrible in this place. “Open up.”

Carl’s freckled face popped over in front of the bared door. Bringing out a large keyring that looked like it weighed one-hundred pounds, he shoved a key into the lock, opening the door with a squeak. Rick, Daryl, and Shane filed in, Shane giving Daryl a passive-agressive shoulder when he passed. The guy had been tailing Daryl the entire time, finger still on the trigger. Shane and Rick put their rifles down on a table that was brimming with guns. Automatics, semi-automatics, non-automatics, all types of guns were piled together. 

_Let’s pray they won’t go off_.

People in prison uniforms (well, one had it tied around his waist) were sitting at another table, chatting quietly and looking at the group with suspicion. One with long hair met Daryl’s gaze and pursed his lips, giving Daryl a tenth over and whispering to the others, who looked over. Daryl narrowed his eyes, hand tightening on his crossbow strap. 

“What’d you get?”, came a boy’s voice from behind him.

Daryl turned, seeing Carl getting ready to dig in his bag. He grabbed the kid’s hands, pushing them down to his sides while also trying to touch Carl the least he could. Carl puffed his cheeks, huffing. Sophia wandered over with a small skip, doll in her mitts. Daryl shouldered one strap of the backpack, luging it up onto his back.

“That looks full,” Sophia said quietly, eyes bright. “Do you have food?”

She gave Daryl puppy dog eyes and _oh Jesus_ . Daryl literally looked in pain as he clenched his jaw. _Softy for kids_ , rang through his head. Merle had once said that after he had returned a child to their family when they got lost in the woods. That was before and it really reminded him of Sophia. Daryl closed his eyes, sighing as he set the bag back down, unzipping it with a loud ‘zerp’ that echoed off of the walls. He looked at them, Carl seemed like either a Mt. Dew or a rootbeer kid and Sophia looked like an orange or grape. Daryl held out those four drinks and the kids gasped, Carl rattled on about how he hadn’t had a soda forever and Sophia was even brighter than before. 

He was right, Carl took a Mt. Dew and Sophia took the orange.

“Be nice,” Daryl said to Sophia, “tha’s mah’ last orange.”

“Oh, you can have it,” she said softy and Daryl put a hand up.

“Nah, got mah’self a cream soda.”

They both gasped and Daryl’s lip quirked up for a second. He gave the kids one more look and handed them the other two sodas, at which they got, somehow, even brighter at. 

Daryl zipped up the bag and said, “ask yer’ parents before ya’ drink em’.” 

Carl groaned and Sophia nodded sweetly. God, those are some cute kids.

He didn’t want to be in the cellblock, too much like juvie, too closed off, too loud, too full of people. So he slung the bag over his shoulder and breezed past the table of inmates. He bets he can get to the roof. Daryl grabbed the keys to the door that Carl had left hanging by it, opened the door, closed it behind him, reaching through the bars to lock it and hang the keys.

The outside had a ladder leading to the roof, he saw if on his way in. Even with Shane breathing down his goddamn neck he still was able to find small things. The ladder was behind some fallen wooden pallets, metal cage surrounding it. He slipped around the pallets, making them fall on the ladder once he began to climb. He want’s this to be his.

He was breathing hard as he got to the top. He looked out, the roof was about as tall as the trees. It was barren and huge, only a blue tarp and some twigs and leaves were up here. 

_This could work._

He picked up the tarp.

_Yeah, this can definitely work_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to end a part well is something I have never gotten right over my five years of writing fanfiction and it kinda hurts.
> 
> I'm going through and editing the other parts, just grammar and things that I forgot later on like little details like how many bolts Daryl has currently (it's at two right now), who was where during the farm-walker thing at the start (Andrea, Carol, Rick, and Glenn were the main people), me calling bolts arrows because I'm STUPID, and smaller things like wrong words being used or an apostrophe being in the wrong spot accidentally.
> 
> Issue is I have to go back and upload each one and I'm too lazy to do that.
> 
> Next part we'll get some more Rick/Daryl movement going again.
> 
> Edited 1/11/2021: plot cohesion issues


	15. Sorry That I Just Called You a Homophobic Slur, My Man, Didn't Mean It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda nakey Rick. Awkward talks about sex. Person dies. We're in the boiler room. 🙂

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically endless, it's 3,100 words long. 😬
> 
> Don't know how I like this. It kinda skips around. Sooner or later I'll start actually getting Daryl and Rick to be friends, make Daryl relize how much he jumps to conclusions and how he has to control his goddamn mouth better.
> 
> Some warnings in the end notes.

The tarp was strung up and Daryl was under it, the cold rain softly pittering away. Winter was close, so close but the air was _just_ not cold enough to freeze the rain yet. Daryl was swirling the booze in it’s container, idly sipping away. He had a hard buzz on, it felt almost painful how he was teetering on the line of a buzz and being fully drunk. He wasn’t ever a light weight, being always full of booze did that to you.

Merle was there because of course he was. Daryl hadn’t gotten time alone between Carl and Sophia and Merle. He’s tried to talk to Merle, but he always goes away. Either he walks away or he just disappears when Daryl blinks. That should tell Daryl he’s not real, but Daryl can’t fight it. Merle looks so real. 

No one’s found Daryl’s little area, he doesn’t think they really _care_ per say about where he is unless they need something. Rick has asked in the past few days about where he’s sleeping, Daryl just said, “ _somewhere_.” It was cozy, he had collected blankets and pillows on his runs, collected bottle caps and other nick-nacks to almost decorate his nest. Honestly, that’s what it was: a nest. The blankets were swirled into a bowl shape, pillows strewn underneath it to cushion it and around the sides. Sometimes Daryl’s neck hurt, but that’s okay. His crossbow was sitting by his arm, close enough to snap up but far enough to not get in the way.

Merle was sitting in a corner, saying something about Rick’s leadership skills or Carol’s food. Daryl still wasn’t sharing his game, he might step in for the kids if things get really bad though. Or for Lori. Daryl doesn’t like her not only because she’s just a bitch, she almost seems to want all of the men’s dicks at her pussy like it was the pearly white gates.

Shane was there, oh boy was Shane there. Rick, who knows, Daryl doesn’t pay attention to Rick’s sex life (kind of a lie) and Glenn is with Maggie, those two are cute and as thick as theeves. Hershel is old, not much there and was still almost married to his dead wife. All that was left was Daryl and no duh of course he wouldn’t chase after Lori. She doesn’t seem interested in white trash either.

_Then again_ …

She had Shane though, maybe she is.

“ _So, you a goddamn pillow-biter, lil’ brother_?”, Merle hissed.

Daryl glared, taking a long swig of his drink. It was nearly empty now, he still had six big ones left. He had drank three normal, glass bottles of beer and was working on the whiskey in his hand. He definitely was drunk now. 

“ _See you goin’ after that Grimes kid, you a shirtlifter too now, boy?_ ” _That was where Daryl draws the line_.

“Not no damn pedo’, Merle! Fuck you!”, Daryl yelled, sitting up.

“ _Woah-ho-ho there’s the little Darleena I know!_ ”, Merle exclaimed with a wolfish grin, “ _common n’ tell me why yer’ not a fuckin’ fudgepacker_.”

Daryl drank the rest of the whiskey in a big gulp, snapping the next one open and continuing his gulp. He didn’t have to explain himself to no one. Merle continued his insults, insulting Daryl’s masculinity, his virginity, and Daryl himself.

_Creak, step, step, creak, step, step_.

Daryl whipped up his crossbow, the whisky in his hand falling to the ground in his haste, spilling on the concrete. 

“Sorry,” Rick said.

Daryl’s crossbow waved, but returned to Rick’s head all the same. Okay, maybe he was a bit more drunk than he thought. _Merle was gone_. Rick’s breath was puffing out into the now hard beating rain. Daryl set the crossbow down, furrowing his brows.

“Get th’ fuck in ‘ere,” he said, gesturing to come.

Rick smiled, letting out a puff of air as he waddled over, arms wrapped around his stomach. He sat just barely under the tarp, not sitting on the blankets.

“It’s nice up here.”

Daryl scoffed. “Yea’ when it’s not rainin’.” Rick smiled, shivering. “Get in.”

Rick went almost wideyed.

“Don’t wanna get your blankets soaked.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Then take off yer’ shit n’ sit down.”

Rick paused. “You’ll be uncomfortable?” Rick said it like it was both a fact and a question.

“Too drunk ta’ care, man.”

Rick nodded. “Heard you talking.” _Oh shit_. “Who’s Merle?”

Rick was taking off his shirt, fingers working out the buttons. Daryl was staring and snapped himself out of it, picking up the spilled whiskey and drinking. There was only half left now.

“Just a stupid fuck,” Daryl said, lips sitting at the opening of the wisky bottle.

Rick cocked his head, looking around for a second. “No ones…”

“Yea’,” Daryl said, voice echoing in the glass bottle, breath blowing into it. “He’s not.”

He stared ahead as Rick’s hands hovered over his belt buckle. Daryl had a frown plastered on his face as he took another drink then started biting his thumbnail. He was starving. Opening the bag that was nestled away in a box that made up one wall of the fort, Daryl took out a granola bar. Stale oats and chocolate mixed with whisky. _Mmmmm, tastes like home_.

Rick belt clacked as he laid it on his folded shirt. Daryl took his shirt out from under the belt, listening to the clacks as it hit concrete. He shoved it between the tarp and the twine hanging the tarp up. Now the clothes would dry.

Looking over, Daryl saw Rick looking so small. He was curled in on himself slightly, arms over his thighs and sitting on his ankles. Daryl hung up his pants and belt, tossing him a blanket with a grunt. Rick had big ol’ goosebumps on his skin, hair standing on end. Daryl considered for a second, then leaned back over to his bag again, digging out a beer for Rick and handing it to him. Funny how just a few days ago he was thinking how no one would get any of his alcohol. Rick nodded, he looked like he really needed some. Dark bag under his eyes, thinning stomach, wary eyes. Rick shouldn’t _ever_ look like this.

It was quiet for a while until Rick got halfway through the bottle. Rick had sex before, yeah? He has a kid, so of course he did. He had a wife too, no way they didn’t. He had a flash of Shane and Lori on the forest floor for a second and shifted. That was so uncomfortable.

“What’s fuckin’ like?”

Rick’s brows went up as his eyes raked Daryl for a bit. It wasn’t a _you’re-hot-lets-fuck_ look, it was more a _didn’t-take-you-for-one_ look.

“Have you not…?”, Rick let the question linger.

“I-”, Daryl’s throat felt dry, so he just reverted to being quiet, taking a much too long drink of his wisky. God he was so fucking drunk. He’s going to have one _damn_ of a hangover in the morning.

Rick just nodded, like a cut off, “I-”, was an answer.

“It’s nice,” Rick started. “Good, like masterbating exept better in all ways.”

Daryl nodded, he already wanted this conversation to end. He buried his face into the neck of the whiskey bottle. Rick laughed slightly. 

“It’s not all it’s hyped to be, though,” he said.

Daryl narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows in a questioning, _why_?, sort of way.

Rick shrugged with a small noise. “I personally didn’t find it as exciting as other people said it would be.”

Daryl cocked his head, raising a brow.

“Don’t know if it was just the person, or if it was something else. Could have been them, or me, or their gender. I’m not sure. She was plenty nice, just not all I thought it would be,” Rick explained.

“Gender?”, was all Daryl said. Carol had been saying that Rick was looking at Daryl, and Daryl had occasionally seen Rick looking so… Was Rick actually gay or something?

“Yeah.” Rick leaned back a bit, wariness setting in. “You’re not homophobic or anything, are you?”

Daryl shook his head, “don’t give a shit,” he said. Was he though? He used slurs sometimes but he’s looked at guys. Does that make him homophobic? He is a Dixon, does that make him homophobic? Was he just gonna end up like his pa?

Rick’s eyebrows were furrowed. _Did he know_?

“I’m not gay, though,” Rick said. “I’m bi, been like that for a while.”

“Bi?”, Daryl asked. He’s only heard of gay, there was _more_?

“Yeah.” Rick laughed at Daryl’s confusion. He wasn’t horrified at the fact that more existed, it was just the fact that he was such a backwoods redneck that he didn’t _know_ more existed. “Bi is where you like girls and guys.”

Daryl nodded his mouth in an ‘o’ shape. Holy shit there’s so much he needs to learn. Rick sipped at his beer some more. This was weird, they were two men (a cop and a redneck) talking about sex and sexualities while one was practically naked and they were sipping beer and wisky in the rain. Don’t forget about the fact that there was the dead walking too. It was quiet again, and Rick was the one to break it this time.

“Are you getting ready to run?”, Rick asked.

Daryl furrowed his brows, turning to face Rick. He knew Daryl was fixing to leave, no matter if this little fort was nice and cozy.

“You’re so tense, it’s like you’re always trying to go,” he said, looking back at Daryl. “You’re still welcome to stay, you’re always welcome.”

Even shitfaced Daryl can still sniff out a trap. His furrowed brows turned into an ugly, angry sneer. 

“What the fuck are ya’ tryin’ ta’ do?” He got up onto his knees, shoving Rick back when he tried to make sure Daryl didn’t collapse. “Get chur’ fuckin’ hands offa’ me, ya’ handsy fuckin’ faggot!”

Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh Jesus. He’s never _ever_ said that to anyone, maybe he’s said something more obscure like Nancy or Janus, but never _that_ . He knew how much _that_ stung like a bitch. Rick paused his movements, eyebrows falling and his expression falling into confusion and hurt, mouth slightly open in a frown.

Daryl knew he fucked up, he knew he was an idiot. Rick got up, snagging his shirt, belt, and pants and hastily shoved them on, huffing and stomping away. He had an angry frown now, which just covered the hurt, not replacing it. Daryl was left on his knees, frozen. It was like he didn’t even know he could say _that_.

After a while of the concrete and little rocks digging into his knees, Daryl fell back onto his ankles, hands falling onto his thighs.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hissed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “ _Fuck_.”

Whenever they make progress something always goes wrong and it’s always Daryl’s fault. Why can’t he just have _one_ good day? Of course Daryl had to go and fuck everything up. Hey laid back in his nest, hand in his hair. There was a creak of the front gates opening, then a screech of tires, then yells of people. Daryl shot up, running to the edge of the roof and looking out. It was hard to see through the mist of the rain, but there was a car, crashed into the bottom of one watch tower with the gate left open. A male and female were running through the yard, a much smaller kid running with them but falling behind. Carl. If they didn’t stop running, Carl would die. Daryl ran, grabbing his crossbow on the way to the ladder.

Daryl skidded down the ladder, thumb catching on the rungs as he slid down. His crossbow weighed so much as he ran, adrenaline fueling him through the harsh slaps of rain on his skin. He stabbed and sliced his way through walkers, opening the third gate leading to the yard and ushering Maggie and Glenn in. He stabbed one walker as he started running to Carl, shooting another that was hovering over the boy.

“Walkers!”, came a yell from behind him.

He snagged Carl away from another walker with a grunt, halling the kid into his arms as he bolted to the open gate, trying to get Carl back inside the prison. Yeah, there were plenty of walkers up here. They were all moving as a faction, hungry groans filling the air. Lori was inside one of the cages with Jacqui, waving her hand to come. Daryl nodded, looking down at Carl as he held his shoulders.

“Go to yer’ ma, I’ll hold em’ offa’ ya’,” Daryl said, lightly pushing Carl.

“We’ll wait,” Carl said back, running to the cage as Daryl followed. 

He stayed close until a walker cut him off, but it was easy to take it down. Daryl closed the gate behind him once he made it into the cage. Lori was heavily pregnant, it was showing even more in the shirt she was wearing. It was like a goddamn dinner bell. Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Carol, and T-Dog were on the other side, across the way inside of the other cage. That one leads to the cell block directly, this one Lori, Jacqui, him and Carl were in doesn't, it's like a maze. Walkers bangged on the gate, spit flying and foaming at the mouth.

"'S gonna come down soon," Daryl said quietly to the other four.

Jacqui nodded and so did Lori and Carl.

"Lead the way," Jacqui said, walking next to Lori as they set off.

It was dark and cold, Carl provided Daryl with a flashlight that he had in his mouth, shining the way. It was quiet, only the shuffles of feet. That was before their way was cut off by a huge group of walkers, all growling and moaning.

" _Shit_ , run!", Daryl yelled, the five of them turning and running. 

Jacqui and Carl were around Lori who was panting quietly, already winded. A bang and clatter, shit.

"Was that the fence?", Lori asked.

Daryl nodded, yeah, yeah it was. Daryl grabbed Carl and Carl dragged Lori along. Daryl’s not gonna let no pregnant woman and child die. They were blocked on both sides, but a door was in front of them, buried in the wall. They sprinted to it, Daryl tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. He desperately pulled on it, rattling the knob. Staying as calm as he could, he started the jimmy the lock, his knife clinking away inside of the crack between the door and the wall.

“Daryl,” Lori said tightly, her arm instinctively curling around her stomach as the growls and shuffling of walkers drew nearer. “Daryl!”

“‘M goin’ as fast as I can, lady!”, Daryl hissed.

The overwhelming smell of rot filled his nose, making his hands shake and his eye water. Gasps and praying came from the two ladies, Carl was crying, Daryl was shaking. The walkers were so close, all squeezing down the halls, some of their skin peeling off on the walls with how squished they all were. Jacqui screamed just as Daryl got the lock open, swinging open the door and firing at the walker gnawing on her shoulder. He pulled them all into the room, boilers and metal work benches greeted them.

Daryl basically tossed them all down, returning to the door to keep it shut. There was slight damage to the door’s knob from Daryl’s desperate jimmy job, it wasn’t staying shut on it’s own. 

“Get ‘dat chair,” Daryl said over the growling and screeching of grotesque nails on the metal door.

Hands shoved their way through the crack in the door, grabbing and pulling at Daryl. Daryl motioned to Jacqui as Carl handed him the chair stiffly, going back to his mother to shove his face in her side. Daryl pointed at the door, nodding at Jacqui. She breathed heavily, clutching her neck where the bite was. She nodded, shuffling over and training places with Daryl. 

She was much weaker, just barely holding the door shut. Daryl looked around, trying to find something to help with the hands in the door. Nothing in the first room. There was a smaller room attached to the boiler room. He opened the door with a clank, the chain holding it mostly shut falling down onto the ground. An axe was leaned against the wall next to a body. The body's legs were cut off as it weakly reached for Daryl. It was a walker dressed in a security guards outfit. Daryl put him down.

Coming back out with fresh blood on him, he aimed for the arms, hacking through them with ease. Carl and Lori were looking away, almost gagging at the cracks and squelching. Jacqui actually did throw up, but it wasn't much, just bile. She was pale, sweat cacking her skin in a shiny film. The door finally shut with a bang after the last hand was cut off.

Jacqui collapsed as Daryl shoved the chair under the door, the banging of walkers still continuing. Jacqui's breathing was shallow as she was slowly tilting sideways. Carl cried and hiccups as he braved a glance at Jacqui's pale form. Lori recovered his eyes as he hugged her waist. Lori was bent over slightly, putting most of her weight on the metal table to her right.

Daryl pulled Jacqui up with one last look at Lori and Carl. Everyone knew what needed to be done. Jacqui had already accepted it. Daryl basically dragged her to the other room, the one with the dead security guard. He laid her down on the cold floor, crouching next to her.

She had shut her eyes, but cracked them open to nod at him. Daryl nodded back. He could just use the axe, but he felt a need to keep her head mostly intact. _Funeral_ , he reminded himself, _a proper barrel_.

Daryl didn't know Jacqui well, but she was part of Rick's group, she was close to Carol. She was pragmatic, but had lost hope even before the world ended. She laid a hand on her stomach, letting her hand lay limp as she moved it. She was even paler, if possible.

He thinks this was worse than any beating he got from Pa as he sunk his hunting knife into the back of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .:Warnings for homophobic slurs (this contains both Merle and Daryl so I mean), references to child abuse, character death (side character), gore. Big possiblity that I missed some things. Honestly this whole story is just a big warning lol:.
> 
> So this happened. Fillers are going to be coming in full force. I want this to be long, but I don't want to dawdle on stupid things that hold no merit, hence why I keep on making Daryl and Rick get kinda comfortable, then something goes wrong and their back to square zero. It's probably getting boring for you guys and honestly, that way of making the story "interesting" is getting boring to write. So don't fret, I'll change it up both for myself and you guys.
> 
> Daryl's going to be growing relationships with the others too just so I can RIP THEM AWAY FROM HIM LATER-  
> I think Daryl's up for some relaxation though, yeah? Definitely after the next chapter, there's going to be a lot of emotional shit for everyone there.
> 
> Geeze I'm in a really serious mood today. Shit be wack and my brain hurts. I've had two restless nights in the past two days and I'm just doing kinda shitty tbh. I'll be fine, think I'm just recovering still. I'm in the dumps, so expect more sad things in the next part. 
> 
> Good news though! Whenever I'm in a mood like this, I get really creative and I can push out some pretty okay stuff! Like, I made one drawing I think it pretty fine, which is cool. I'll try to get the next part out as soon as I can, but don't hold me to that 100%! 
> 
> Okay, bet no one read this far. Sorry for rambling, just have a lot to say. Have a nice day and happy reading!


	16. Incoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Child birth. Talking about emotions. More warnings in the end notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of birth in this chapter, it's all about Judy coming into the world.
> 
> Felt so good to put Judith Grimes in the character list akdjcjfjvjk- (Dad Daryl though like, common, Dad Daryl)

When he came out of that small room, Lori was bent over the table, breathing heavily; even harder than before. Carl was rubbing her back, looking so far out of his element.

Lori looked back at Daryl, fear etched in her features. "I'm going into labor," she said.

It's like the room made that one phrase echo for a straight minute. Suddenly, he was back inside of a grungy home, sitting by a pool with a woman laying in front of him, wincing and flinching but she still kept her cigarette in her fingers. He almost knew what to do, _almost_. He can do this? Yeah?

He calmed himself by breathing slowly a few times. It was like he was readying himself for what was to come, even though he wasn't the one in labor. He had a decent amount of knowledge about child birth, but he was still terrified. Last time didn't go so well.

Lori winced as her knees buckled, she breathed through clenched teeth, furrowing her brows. A contraction.

"How long?", Daryl asked, walking over to hold her steady until she got her footing back.

"What?", Lori winced out.

"Contractions, how long have ya' been havin' 'em?" That was important, right?

"'Bout," she paused to tap her finger on the metal table, tensing as a new wave of sweat covered her skin, "ten minutes I guess."

Daryl paused, his mouth falling slightly open. "Ya' didn't tell anyone?"

"I was able to ignore it for a while, okay! It didn't hurt," she said, winded.

Daryl helped her to the floor, pushing back the urge to pull back as she gripped his bicep.

"'S not supposed to' hurt fer' awhile." It didn't for _her_ either, she was able to take an hour long walk and a thirty minute smoke before she went into labor like on TV. "Take yer' pants off."

Lori startled. "I- wait- Carl- but," she stuttered out. 

Daryl nodded, looking at Carl and saying, "go up ta' yer' Ma's head. Hold 'er hand."

Carl nodded frantically, gripping Lori's hand in a painful looking way. Lori smiled at him reassuringly.

"Another one's coming," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Need yer' pants off," Daryl said. It's not like he liked it either.

"But you're a-"

Daryl gave her a blank look. "'S not like I get off ta' ya' giving birth," he grumbled.

She winced, muffling her small cry with a kiss to Carl's white hand. Daryl reached for her jeans button, looking at her for permission. This wasn't some sort of romantic night, she was fucking giving _birth_. Lori nodded, thunking her head back and squeezing her eyes shut.

He slipped the button through the hole, unzipping her jeans and sliding them off. Again, not a romantic outing, Daryl doesn't even really like her but _goddamnit if he was going to let this kid die_. He didn't want to touch her, looking was probably embarrassing enough for her. He did tap her knee though to get her to spread a bit more. 

"Mhm," he hummed, "yer' dilated good."

She moaned in pain, squeezing Carl's hand.

"Gotta get up," she hissed out, using Carl's hand and Daryl's forearm to squat. 

Lori squeaked a yelp out.

"It's-it's starting, it's- God," she said with a silent scream. 

Panic and realization was setting in for her. Once she grunted, Daryl laid her back down, checking one again. 

"Good." He nodded. She was good. She was good.

Lori sucker her lips in, hair stuck to her forehead. It was like clockwork, whenever she had a contraction and felt like she had to push, she was helped into a squat and pushed until she was exhausted, then was set back down. Then she yelped loudly, mumbling out, "oh God, oh God, Jesus." Before she was pretty quiet for the most part, but now she was yelping and letting out more silent screams.

Daryl looked again, there was the crown of the baby's head. 

"Okay," he said, "it's comin'."

Lori had explained through one of her earlier contractions that she had a C-section with Carl, that this was her first time actually giving birth. She was so scared. The next time she actually _pushed_ , like, _really pushed_. When Daryl leaned her back again, he saw blood. Panic, panic, panic!

"Wait," Daryl said, he wished he had a cloth to clean the blood, but he didn't really have a clean one. "Yer' bleedin'."

No bedside manner with any Dixon. Lori was hyperventilating, Carl was crying even more now, fat tears streaming down both of their faces.

"What is it?", Lori asked, gritting her teeth with a creak.

"Could be somethin' ta' worry 'bout," he said. He didn't really have a good way to check. They just had to get through this.

A mantra of, "oh God, oh Lord," came from Lori as she kissed Carl's hands, trying to keep herself and Carl both calm.

"I gotta," she grunted, trying to get up.

She stood up this time, holding onto the table as Daryl squatted, holding his hands below her. Pushing and yelps continued. It might be easier with the help of gravity to get the little shit out than laying down. Is he doing something wrong? What if the baby dies or Lori does? Would it be his fault?

_Of course it would be_ , he hissed at himself, _you're supposed to know this_.

She pushed extra hard this time, yelling gibberish. Carl was at her side, eyes wide and hand rubbing her back. For a kid in this situation, he's doing great. There was only one line of blood running down Lori's thigh, it could be something to worry about or it could be something small.

_Nothing's small when it comes to child birth_ , he thought. _Any blood is bad_. 

This didn't happen before, there was no blood before. Then again, _she_ didn't really ever bleed, even when getting cut up. She was quiet too, an almost blank look on her face. Everything was different with this one. Lori was crying, yelping, even screaming a bit at some points. Then, the baby's head came out, and it was like a tidal wave of relief came over the three of them as the baby whimpered. _It was alive_. Then again, the baby boy he had held in his hands was too.

There was nothing to cut the umbilical cord with, nothing _clean_ to cut the umbilical cord with. Nothing to keep the baby warm, either. 

The baby's neck showed, no umbilical cord visible. Good, it didn't have the cord wrapped around it's neck, that was good, really good. The shoulder were next, and Lori nearly collapsed as they squeezed out. The baby was mostly quiet until they got to it's waist, then it started crying, probably cold. It was good it didn't start sooner, that would have made everything ten times more real and stressful.

Daryl felt like he was stuck between two timelines, this one with Lori and Carl and the other one with _her_. That cheap, blue baby pool and the damn grizzly, slanted walls. They were in an attic, the roof was heavily waterdamnaged, the smell of mildew and the dust from fallen, rotten wood filling the air. It was dark, the only light from her smoke and the few candles decorating the foor.

Coming back to reality, Daryl was now cradling the baby as it's legs came out. Another trickle of blood followed down Lori's legs as Daryl pulled the baby away slightly.

"'S a girl," he said. 

Lori was weakly laughing as she was eased down onto the floor. The baby still had the umbilical cord, of course, so she couldn't lay on her mother. She stayed cradled in Daryl's arms. The baby was breathing, she was whimpering, she was _alive_.

"Can you look?", Lori asked.

"Hm?"

"Can you see what's wrong," she gestured to the blood.

Daryl held up a dirty hand and Lori shook her head slightly. So Daryl looked. He didn't touch, but he did poak her knees again.

"Ya' tore a bit. 'S not big," he reported.

It was tiny, it looked like a papercut, but slightly wider. It wasn't anything to worry about bad really. He should be vigilant though, don't need that getting infected.

"The umbilical cord," she said.

Daryl nodded and shrugged. He doesn't know what to do about that right now. Carl was curled up by his mother, holding her hand as he slept. He was exhausted, they were all exhausted. He knew that Lori wanted to ask him a question, and he had a pretty good idea about what that question was. 

He looked her straight in the eyes and asked, "what?"

"How did you know what to do there?", she asked, gently running her hands through Carl's hair.

He slipped a cigarette out of his pocket, then paused, looked at the sleeping baby, and put it back. Lori's tired, Daryl's tired, _she_ was tired.

"Mah' Ma gave birth inna' pool," he said, gnawing on his lips. 

Lori frowned. "You have a sibling?"

Daryl nodded. "Two of 'em. Older brother n' the one she birthed." He shook his head, talking the cigarette back out to chew on it. The knowledge of a cigarette being between his lips calmed him slightly, even if it wasn't lit. "Lil' kid didn't make it."

Lori's frown deepened. "Where was your older brother?"

"Jail," Daryl said bluntly. They both knew where he was now. It's the new thing, if someone you knew isn't next to you, they're dead. "Grew up in the mountains, didn't have enough money ta' go ta' the hospital. Pa didn't know she was carryin' a baby either."

Lori subconsciously put a hand over her stomach, now more flat. She didn't ask anything else about that subject, but it was obvious that she was still curious.

"Kid died right in man's arms," Daryl whispered, looking down at the baby cradled in his arms now. She was still breathing, good. "Kid was looking at me all squintin' n' shit, lookin' pissed off. Then he jus'... Gasped n' stopped breathin'." He took a breath. "Ma didn't care, she just got up an' cut that cord 'erself and went fer' a smoke. Didn't care much fer' me or Merle either, never did 'til the day before she died."

He was five years old, the day before she died he got the first smile he had ever seen on her face that wasn't caused by being fucked on the kitchen counter. Like Pa, she always had someone over, it was how she got pregnant with the kid. It was the first time Daryl had ever figured out what cheating was, and also what a whole, slut and bitch was. Pa always used the worst words to describe Ma.

Lori nodded, it had been the most she had heard from Daryl yet, it was the most she had ever learned of the man too. It was something only she was graced with right now, _Lori fucking Grimes out of eveyone_.

Merle would be saying how he was a pussy and she would never fuck him now.

The kid started crying, she was really cold. Daryl unbuttoned his shirt and laid the kid against his chest and she quieted down, bringing her hand up to lay it over his peck. She was listening and feeling his heart. It melted him.

"Thank you," Lori said to him, reaching out to pat his arm slowly.

Daryl sucked in his bottom lip, looking down at the ground and gutting his chin out in a nod. _You're welcome_ , he said without talking. Lori knew what he said, it seemed like everyone that he talked to like that did. Lori smiled softly, all mother-like.

She was tired, so Daryl told her he would watch for walkers and look out for the baby and Carl. She nodded gratefully, pulling Carl a bit closer as she nodded off just like that. 

Daryl was bound to this baby now and in turn, was bound to Lori. That was just until Carl woke up or they were found or once the cord is cut. They could use a knife whipped down vigorously with disinfectant wipes and lots of water. Like, a shit ton of water and Wipes. The kid was gonna need diapers and clothes too, summer, she could run around naked but winter was so close and so cold, she needed clothing for that. Fuzzy pajamas and diapers and some t-shirts and maybe shorts if they're lucky. Warm clothing is the number one thing though, for everyone.

Daryl had been collecting those stuff for his little hangout on the roof (he was reminded of needing to apologize to Rick a lot, God), he had a poncho. It was fleece and kind of scratchy, but really warm. He had been saving it for himself, but this damn baby needed it so much more. He had all of those blankets too, would be good to give those to the kid as well.

They need an escape plan though. Lori wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it would be hard for her to walk with both the cut and the umbilical cord. Daryl sat down, he had been squatting before, now he was sitting criss-cross. The child grumbled with the movement and blurred her face into his chest (oh God!). Carl knew how to shoot, Shane had been teaching him as they were moving from the farm and to the prison. Carl was a pretty good shot from what Rick had said.

Rick would be proud of Lori, Carl and the baby. If not, well be fucking better be. Lori just went through some real pain and embarrassment to get this baby out and they both made it.

_You're never out of the danger zone until she knows how to shoot_ , his mind helpfully provided him.

Daryl scowled at himself, he can't be happy for two seconds, can he? He gently peeled the baby away from his chest, part of him crying as the baby whined. He laid the small baby in his lap, taking off his shirt and swaddling the baby. He doesn't give a shit about his back right now, this baby was cold and his arms were like jelly right now, almost too weak to hold the baby up any longer. He felt so drained. 

The baby was content once he put her back to his chest, listening to his breathing and heart once again. Daryl laid back onto a cold boiler, the cold metal making goosebumps rise on his skin. He had worked as a mechanic a bit, he had worked with plumbing and electricity a little, he might be able to make a solar panel or something and get these working again. Who knows, maybe warm showers are in the near future?

This baby deserves the world and more. She deserves a childhood safe from the traumas of walkers and death and _God_ if Daryl wasn't going to bend backwards to give it to her. He helped bring her into this world and he was going to help ready her for it too.

Jacqui's body was still laying in the other room, she had to be buried still too. Carl could hold the baby and Daryl could bring Jacqui out. Daryl had dealt with her when she was, more or less, _alive_ and there was no way she would wake back up. It was just the question of how they would get through the lingering walkers. The others _had_ to be looking for Lori and Carl and Jacqui, right? They had probably taken down some walkers on the way.

_Could always leave her,_ he thought. He thinks he might have to.

Lori couldn't reach down and hold the baby, the umbilical cord prevented that. The baby had to eat though unless they wanted her to cry and scream. What does the umbilical cord do if left for a while? Would it just kinda fall off? Would it not go?

Daryl yawned, _it's gonna be a long ass day ahead_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .:Warnings: past child death, light talk of Merle's death, and Lori herself as a warning but she's going to be really tame from here on:.
> 
> Adding new tags always makes me happy! I was actually in the delivery room as my sister was born which was pretty cool, so I know a bit about child birth. I was in Carl's position (kinda), freaking out and sitting by my Mom's head. It was cool, I was tired and stayed up the entire few hours my Mamma was in labor. Gosh, TV does a really bad job with representing labor and child birth, it's pretty fucking boring tbh. Labor is like, hours long and the actual birthing part feels like seconds. I mean, good thing is that I can describe labor and birth well!
> 
> I actually had this whole, Daryl helped his Mom give birth and the baby didn't make it story line for a while, since part three where Daryl was talking about how Lori needed pre-natal vitamins (you don't need those but alas, I had to make Daryl say it in a quick Daryl-ee way). This was actually really fun to write...? Am I crazy? Yes, yes I am. As I said in the last chapters notes, Daryl's gonna get a big break for a bit because OOF.


	17. Word Around The Office Says You Have a Phat Cock.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl trusting Carl. Rick scared for his family. Rick in shock. Daryl awkwardly comforting Rick. Lori being good finally. Shane's a bitch. Daryl and Rick talking quite... A lot actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God Daryl's gonna get a big ass brake in terms of suffering. I seriously feel bad, but like, not bad enough to stop, of course. Rick and Daryl are gonna get along now I think, Daryl's still gonna bite off everyone's heads though but that's like him. Daryl's bristly like a porcupine.🙃
> 
> It's currently 4:45 AM for me, my eyes hurt, my arms and fingers hurt, and my ass hurts, lets get this train a movin'.

Lori and Carl had woken up about an hour ago, but no one had talked yet. Carl took the baby at Daryl’s silent request (it wasn’t a request, he just shoved her into Carl’s arms). He got up, snagging his crossbow from its spot leaning on the wall. Lori’s head snapped up from where she was looking at Carl and the baby.

“Where are you going?”, she asked.

“Out,” was all Daryl graced her with. Lori’s jaw was clenched as Daryl took out the extra gun he carries with him. He’s not as good with guns as he is with his crossbow, but it works at killing things. “Take it,” he said, holding the gun out to Carl, “know ya’ve been practicing with Shane.”

Carl nodded, taking the gun with small hands. It looked so big in his clutches.

“ _ He’s been practicing with a gun _ ?”, Lori almost hissed.

“Yea’, he’s a damn crack shot. Would be a shame ta’  _ not  _ put ‘em ta’ use.”

Lori furrowed her brows, pursing her lips as she sent Carl a  _ me-and-your-father-will-be-talking-to-you-about-this-later _ look.

“What are you doing out there?”

“Findin’ exits, the group,” Daryl said, taking the metal chair out from under the damaged door knob. “Ya’ watch’chur Ma n’ the lil’ asskicker, yea’?”, Daryl said to Carl, earning a determined nod.

Daryl looked back over to Lori once more, getting a nod out of her too. The door squeaked behind him as he slowly shut it, wincing at the echoing. It was eerily quiet, the darkness setting a dread into Daryl. He held his crossbow in his hands, shoulder muscle on his left twinging in pain. He’s due for a massage or some shit after this is over.

They had followed a pretty straight path, straight down from the caged in door and taking a left at the only turn. It was quiet, way too quiet, the only sounds were Daryl’s feet shuffling lightly on some fallen plaster. Daryl’s eyes were adjusting to the dark slowly, the boiler room had sparse windows to light his way at least, but these halls have only thin windows close to the ceiling every sixty feet. It was cold now, the boiler room was almost sweltering with human sweat and stifling anxiety, but out here it was as cold as death, ironic. 

Daryl took the left widely, swinging his crossbow up and squinting as a flashlight shined in his eyes.

“Daryl?”, Rick, more or less, asked. “Where’s Lori, Carl, and Jacqui?”   
  


Daryl looked down for a second, and Rick assumed the worst automatically.

“Jesus,” Shane said, running a hand down his face as Maggie and Glenn deflated into each other.

“Lori’s fine,” Daryl answered. “So’s is Carl n’ the baby, Jacqui didn’ make it.”

Rick and Shane looked hopeful.

“The baby?”, Maggie questioned, then gasped. “ _ The baby _ .”

Everyone looked at one another with wide eyes, then back at Daryl.

“Where are they? Lori and Carl and the baby, where are they?”, Rick basically begged, walking closer to Daryl with a tense expression. Daryl backed away.

“In tha’ boiler room.” Daryl turned to Maggie and Glenn, “get chur’ Pa, a knife er’ scissors n’ some disinfectant wipes. Get sum’ stitches n’ numbin’ shit too.”

Worry etched into their faces, assuming the worst once again. They completely looked past the fact that he said that they were all fine.

“She just tore, need that cord cut too.” He turned, starting to walk away but not hearing anyone following. “Common, gonna leave ya’ ‘ere.”

Shane grabbed Rick’s arm on the way past the still man, shock was setting in. It was quiet again, sounds of feet and crunching glass. It was oddly therapeutic. How long had it been? A night? A day and a night? How long was it since Rick and Shane had seen Lori and Carl? Daryl raised a hand to his mouth, biting the cuticle and the skin around it. 

He was dirty, hair caked in sweat and walker blood. His hands were ripped to shreds when he was trying to tinker with the boilers last night. Daryl had woken up about thirty minutes after he had fallen asleep, Carl and Lori asleep still with the baby letting out snorts of breath as she slept too. He hadn’t gone back to sleep.

“Boy or girl?”, Shane asked, “the baby.”

“Girl,” Daryl answered, looking back at Rick. “Keep goin’ straight,” he mumbled.

Rick was lagging behind, staring at the ground with a glazed look. Daryl slowed down, allowing Shane to lead. The man didn’t even care that Rick was in shock, it was like he was a dog trying to sniff out for his mate. It was disgusting. That woman was supposed to be Rick’s wife, but everything was so fucked up and now she was Shane’s. Now how to go about this… 

“Rick,” Daryl started, hesitantly placing his hand on Rick’s shoulder. “They’re fine, left Carl with a gun.”

Rick looked startled.

“A  _ gun _ ?! He doesn’t know-”

“Shane’s been teachin’ him on the road,” Daryl said quietly, not wanting the aggressive man ahead of them to hear. “Lori didn’t know either. Kid’s good, wouldn’t have left ‘em if he wasn’t.”

“He’s  _ eleven  _ for Christ’s sake! He’s not supposed to be shooting things! He’s not supposed to be terrified every two seconds!”, Rick vented. 

Daryl was wanting to curl up in a ball. He helped birth a  _ child  _ and this is what he gets? Was he not supposed to? No, Rick was just venting, it has nothing to do with him, so Daryl just let the man vent. Rick hissed and growled, he bared his teeth for ten minutes, not even taking one breath it seemed. Then, Rick breathed, he took a long breath and buried his face into his hands.

“‘M sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me,” Rick mumbled, sniffing.

Daryl placed his shrugged off hand back onto Rick’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“‘S fine.”

Rick shot him a look.

“No it ain’t. Ya’ shouldn’t have to put up with me screaming at you after you kept my son, wife, and now  _ daughter  _ alive.” Rick raked a hand through his hair. 

“Not makin’ me do anythin’.”

Daryl was uncomfortable,  _ so uncomfortable _ . He was so tense that his shoulders were aching. 

“I put you in a position where you had to listen,” Rick said.

“Yer’ not makin’ me do jack shit,” Daryl huffed, reverting back to anger. He started to stomp away.

Ugh, he had already called him a faggot, what else is next? Rick grabbed his bicep, lips forming a straight line.

“No, you can’t just do that, not anymore.”

“Lemme go,” Daryl hissed, pulling his arm away. Now the two had stopped walking all together. “Man, ya’ better lemme go.”

Daryl had bristled, it felt like Rick was hitting all of the wrong buttons. Rick must have realized what he was doing and let go of Daryl with his eyebrows raised. He was surprised, it was an immediate reaction to someone walking away from him.

“Sorry,” Rick apologized.

Daryl scoffed, crossing his arms. The dull light impeding Daryl’s view of Rick, making him nervous. He always liked to have tabs on what people were doing and their expressions. It just calmed him. Rick scrubbed his forehead, he was clean, like, really clean. Are the showers working here? His bare bicep had a handprint on it. This conversation was over as Daryl turned and walked away, arms still crossed over his chest.

A gunshot.

Daryl’s anger was forgotten as he rushed ahead, Rick closely following. Shane was frozen in the middle of the hall before Daryl brushed past him. They weren't far off from the boiler room now. Shane snapped out of it and followed the two. Moans and groans sounded from ahead. 

Daryl shot a walker with his crossbow and Rick got another. There were only those two trying to pile into the boiler room. Daryl sharply took the cormer to get into the sweltering room, hand catching the door frame. Carl was standing there, wide eyed with Daryl’s gun still pointing forward. Lori was still lying on the ground, the child laying on her closed legs. 

“Hey, kid,” Daryl softly said. Never in his life would he think he would talk to a kid like that. “Gimme the gun.”

Carl nodded, the shock of being faced down with three walkers making the poor kid almost frozen in fear. Daryl tucked the gun away, putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder with a, “ya’ did good,” as he walked over to Lori, tapping her knee. He held the child in his arms, waking her for a few seconds before she settled back down.

“Did cha’ tear anymore?”, Daryl asked, looking at the small wound.

“No, maybe? I don’t know, it’s numb.”

Daryl hummed and nodded. “Hershel’s comin’ with some shit ta’ heal that n’ get the cord cut.”

Lori nodded as Daryl turned to Rick and Shane, asking if they had any food and water. Of course they did. Daryl helped Lori drink out of the bottle and eat the granola bar, fear, hunger, thirst, and exhaustion making her limbs heavy. Rick was holding Carl and Shane was leaning on the doorframe, running a hand through his shaved hair and along his cheek.

“Sleep,” Daryl said, patting Lori’s shoulder.

She hummed weakly and let her head fall back onto the concrete and just like that, she was out. The child whimpered, reaching a little hand up. Her eyes were open and she was looking around, unfocused and confused. She analyzed Daryl’s face and found his facial hair amusing. She patted his small beard, squeezing the hairs a few times before she curled up again. Daryl readjusted her back to his chest like last night (it was last night, right?). Carl stiffly walked over to the child and Daryl with Rick and Shane following. Shane still stayed pretty far away, though.

“She opened her eyes when you were gone,” Carl said.

Daryl hummed. “Good.”

Rick crouched down, peering at the baby’s face. Almost like she knew she was being watched, she tucked her head into Daryl’s shirt. Daryl awkwardly patted her little back.

“You’re good with them,” Rick said quietly.

Daryl shrugged. “Jus’ doin’ what I can.”

Lori woke back up from the loud, echoing footsteps from down the hall. Shane walked out to wave Maggie, Glenn, and Hershel down. As Daryl had asked, they brought scissors, antibacterial wipes, mumbling wipes, pain medication, needle and thread, and some other things like shirts and towels. Lori was groggy, but she got more aware as people stepped closer. She panicked at first, not seeing her baby.

“Don’t worry,” Daryl had said, “I got the lil’ lady.”

Lori had noticeably calmed once Daryl said that. The people of course noticed, sending Daryl a lot of mixed looks. Shane was suspicious (is he fucking her? Is he taking what's “rightfully” mine?), Rick was more confused (Lori hated him but is now fine?), Glenn was confused (same as Rick), Maggie was understanding (this was the man that saved her life, her son’s, and daughter's), Herschel seemed indifferent.

Herschel cleaned the scissors with care for all of the crevices and corners and used what looked to be two clothes hanger clips to close off the umbilical cord. He held out the scissors to Rick who took them, but looked panicked.

“The umbilical cord has no nerves,” Herschel explained, “neither the mother nor the child will feel anything.”

Daryl, of course, knew this. His mother didn’t react when she cut her own, no pain or anything besides for emptiness. Daryl shook his head, still holding the baby. He almost didn’t want to let go of her.

_ Jesus _ , he hissed to himself,  _ you’re getting emotional over a baby. It’s not even yours _ .

The cord was cut and Daryl handed the baby to Rick hastily, like ripping off a bandaid, but the pain was an overwhelming protectiveness and the bandaid was the kid. Lori noticed (of  _ course _ she did) and frowned, cocking her head. Daryl stood up, scowling at the wall. The scowl wasn’t for anyone, he didn’t want them to think it was.

“Daryl-” Lori started, beginning to sit up, but was cut off by Daryl raising a hand.

“I’m gonna jus’. . . Go out,” he said, wiggling his hand a bit before he squeezed it into a fist, lowering it to his side and walking out. He needed air desperately.

He was wavering again, losing himself between the thinning line of now and then. Lori was flickering into Ma and the cut cord leaking blood onto the floor. She hadn’t clamped the cord, the baby wasn’t with them, why would she? She didn’t care if she bled to death. Something left Ma that day and Daryl had watched it go, brother curled limply in his arms. Something left Daryl then too, something he wasn’t able to identify. For Ma it was her own life, it just drained. Daryl didn’t know about him though. Ma had started smoking and drinking more, she had tried to limit it for the baby, but she hadn't ever truly stopped.

Daryl didn’t want to think about that. Lori was yelling behind him, a shrill type of screaming. She was spilling about Daryl. He felt anger, then emptiness, then a strange rush of warmth when he realized she was defending him from Shane. But he didn’t need help with Shane, especially not from a gal. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his forehead, like that would help erase that thought. Lori was trying to help, and she had gotten Shane to shut the hell up in the process, so Daryl couldn’t be too mad. But he was, that was the issue. He was so fucking mad.

What gave her the right to spit out about his Ma or his brother? They’re going to realize, though, that he can never handle a child. Daryl inexplicably wanted children of his own, even if he despised most kids, he still wanted his own. Was it human nature, or was it his disgusting hope that someone would trust with enough to let him around their children. The only things holding him back was the unwillingness for people to let same-sex couples to adopt or get a surrogate and the fear that he would be like his Daddy. He had gotten the whole, “it’s not genetic,” talk before, but what  _ if _ he did? He didn’t  _ want  _ to hurt children, he knew that if sure as hell didn’t feel good. He didn’t want any kid to go through that.

Rick had joined him, looking at him was his sad eyes. He leaned on the wall next to Daryl who still had his face buried in his hands.

“Don’t need chur’ goddamn  _ pity _ ,” he spat it out like a foul tasting candy.

“It’s not pity,” Rick said. “It’s sadness.”

“Well, don’t need chur’ fuckin’ sadness either.”

Rick put his hands into his pockets, taking a breath in and sighing it out.

“No one should have to see that,” Rick almost whispered.

“Really?” Daryl sounded so confused, even though he meant for it to be sarcastic. His voice had cracked.

Rick looked over worried with a brow raised. Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes as he wrinkled his nose. He ground his teeth,  _ now or never _ .

“Sorry,” Daryl said quietly, like he murmured it to himself.

Rick tilted his head down to get a better view of Daryl’s face. He found Daryl’s twisted extression, never had he seen anything other than a scowl or a neutral face on Daryl. It was an ugly expression, one side of Daryl’s mouth was raised into a half-frown, brows furrowed with anger and confusion and cheeks pink. He was tired, so. Fucking. Tired. He had worked himself up into a tizzy about telling Rick he was sorry. 

Rick put his face forward a bit, raising his brows in an urge to continue.

Daryl breathed. “Back on the roof, didn’t say sorry.”

Rick nodded. “Thanks,” he said, nodding as he lost himself in his thoughts.

Daryl looked over, eyes narrowed. “What’re ya’ gonna do now?”

“Huh?”

“Thought you would at least punch me,” Daryl murmured.

Rick looked started, like Daryl grew a second head named Sam, threw on a princess dress and started taming rats. He was frowning, lips pursed in a, “ _ so that’s how you think of me,” _ sort of way.

“I wouldn’t punch you,” Rick said softly, like he was trying to coax a cat out of the shadows. “Why’d you ever think that?”

“I dunno,” Daryl dumbly said, “everyone else has.”

Rick didn’t ask who, “everyone else,” was. So much was already spilled, it’s almost sad how much, and Daryl is unsure about Rick. Rick was nice, still innocent, way too forgiving, and grounded. No, he was the ground. This group would have died if Rick didn’t show up when he did.

“‘M sorry.” Rick glared, but it didn’t feel like it was aimed at Daryl himself. “Yer’ a good leader.”

Rick had an incredulous look on his face. “What? Seriously?” 

“Yea’.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so,” Rick said, kicking at a chunk of plaster on the ground.

“Lori thinks so too, so does Carl. Don’t know ‘bout the others.”

“Shane hates my guts-”

“Because he’s greedy and jealous.”

“-and Andrea is mad about not being in the group enough-”

“She has to make an effort.”

“-, Glenn is too sweet to say anything-”

“He wouldn’t be following you if he didn’t think you were good.”

“-, Maggie’s following Glenn-”

“Glenn follows Maggie.”

“-, Dale hates my decisions-”

“He won’t make any of his own.”

“-and the others just  _ hate me _ . You do too.”

Daryl looked up, then turned to look Rick directly in the eyes with the meanest, most aggressive expression Rick’s ever seen.

“Never said I did. Yer’ good, yer’ a good leader, yer’- yer’ a- a-,” Daryl tapped his hand on his thigh, “yea’, yer’ a good leader.” There was a long pause. “‘M not good with words, man.”

Rick looked touched still.

“Thanks. Thought you hated me, like,  _ really  _ hated me with that permanent scowl business.” Rick gestured to Daryl’s face, of which, ironically, had a scowl.

“‘S a Dixon trait,” Daryl huffed.

“Dixon? Daryl Dixon, is that your last name?”

Daryl’s eyes widened, he hadn’t thought about that before it just came out.

“Don’t fuckin’ say it,” Daryl growled, teeth and all.

Rick looked taken aback. “Why? Why don’t you like your last name?”

“Isn’t ‘bout the name,” Daryl mumbled.

Rick seemed to get it, those damn cop observations. It was quiet, crickets and voices talking from inside the boiler room were the only sounds. It was oddly calming.

“Didn’t like my family either,” Rick said suddenly.

_ Yup, he knows _ . 

Daryl hummed questioningly.

“If I tell you, you have to tell me something about your family, yeah?”

Daryl pursed his lips but nodded.

“Mom and Dad only had me, they were young, Dad was barely twenty and Mom was eighteen. They treated me well, got me pretty much whatever I asked for. Really cushy, everything was good. Then I grew up, people grow apart, time wilts relationships. I moved away and I don’t think they ever got over it, they felt like I was leaving or something I guess. They were pretty old-timey. They pretty much forced me and Lori together young, her parents were better about everything. They stuck close, whenever I would move, they would follow, then I gave up.” Rick was looking at the ceiling before he turned and looked at Daryl. “Know what's sad, though?”

“Hm?”

“They weren’t invited to the wedding.”

Daryl snorted, shaking his head. Rick laughed too before their smiles fell and it turned back to a comfortable quiet with a glow of easiness.

“Hm,” Daryl made a short hum, sifting through all of his memories that wouldn’t drag down the soft glow of happiness. There weren't many and Daryl didn’t want to go back to the pity and self-loathing just yet. 

“Merle got caught by the pigs a lot.” Daryl paused, looking over at Rick, he didn’t notice he said, “pigs”. Rick sent him a soft smile. Daryl took a breath. 

“He was always leavin’ coke n’ weed out on the tables, never tried ta’ hide ‘em. I don’t know. He didn’t try ta’ get me inta’ that shit, didn’t let me even get inta’ the same room as it. He broke a cop's wrist and another’s hip before,” Daryl laughed breathily. Rick was giving him a surprised and confused look. “Bar fight. Always got inta’ those. Got mah’ fair share of ‘em too. Whenever a deal went sour ‘er someone tried ta’ take shit without payin’, shit like that, he would fight ‘em. Dixon way.” 

He muttered, “some bullshit excuse like that.” 

He looked back up, reminiscing on the memory. “Guy was gettin’ his ass handed to ‘em ‘n the pussy called the cops. Merle was drunk, real fuckin’ drunk n’ tried ta’ fight the cops. He fucked up miserably but he did break that one cop’s wrist and the other’s hip. Nabbed a taser too before he ran ‘n tripped on his own foot. Fucker tased himself.”

Rick chuckled. “Is that a  _ good  _ memory?”

Daryl frowned and furrowed his brows. “Onea’ the only ones.”

Rick’s hand went up and hovered over Daryl’s shoulder, warmth radiating off of it. It sat still for a while, before it rested on Daryl’s shoulder. It was so warm and Daryl was so cold. Was it nerves? The temperature? The memories? He leaned into it. Rick leaned too, shoulders resting against each other. He was warm, cozy almost. Crazy how Rick wasn’t sweating right now.

Rick sniffed the air, then said, “you need a shower.” Rick didn’t move, though. 

Daryl snorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, this was 3,000 words long oop- 
> 
> By now I don't do 1,000 words, I just aim for 1,300 or more.


	18. Talk, Talk, Talk, Talk, Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue. So much dialogue.

Daryl was sitting on the roof when Rick came up with water and food.  _ Lunch _ , Daryl supposes. Daryl hadn’t taken a shower yet. Something about it was just not appealing, no matter how much he stunk. But he had to, the whole, you know,  _ hygiene  _ thing was important. He could just find a stream somewhere. He doesn’t need no fancy shower.

Rick came up with a plate, spoon, and a cup. The cup had water, most likely from their clean water stash. Lunch was tasteless tomato soup with grains and bread. Daryl took the plate and cup from Rick and put it down by his feet. Rick sat down next to Daryl, looking out over the walls in silence. Birds were flying overhead, squirrels were preparing for winter.

“You’ve been pulling away,” Rick said suddenly, adjusting his legs to sit criss cross. “Well, farther away.” 

Daryl has, and he knows it.

“I’ve noticed it, Lori’s noticed it, so has Shane, he won’t leave me alone about it. He keeps on saying that I can’t let you, “run away,” anymore.”

“Yer’ point?”, Daryl asked.

“Why? Why pull farther away? Did something happen? Is it  _ someone _ ?” Rick paused, narrowing his eyes at Daryl and said quieter, “is it something with the baby?”

Daryl clenched his jaw.  _ Yeah, kinda _ . Rick tilted his head into his shoulder, watching Daryl as his face twitched and he shifted uncomfortably. He had spent a day and a night with that baby and was already wrapped around her little finger.  _ Pathetic _ . Rick leaned back a bit, looking moderately amused.

“What?”, Daryl asked, agitated.

“The more and more that I’m around you, I think I figure you out slightly more each time,” Rick said.

“And what’d cha’ figure out this time, Sherlock?”

Rick narrowed his eyes, grinning.

“You care for us,” Rick paused. “Well, some of us.”

It was quiet for a while, the only sounds being the weak sound of crickets and the shifting of trees. Daryl thought, he thought and thought. Did he care for them? That’s depressing, the fact that he doesn’t actually know if he cares about them or not. Rick seems pretty damn sure that he does, what with his shit eating grin and all. Rick let him think until Daryl took a breath in, laying his head down on his propped up knee. Rick was watching out.

“I’m sorry about Merle,” he said.

Daryl slowly raised his head up, furrowing his brows at Rick. 

“What?”

Rick looked over at Daryl. “I’m sorry about Merle,” Rick repeated.

“Why’re ya’ sorry? Didn’t do shit.” Why would Rick say sorry? He wasn’t there, not like it was his fault.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that without anyone beside you,” Rick explained. “It’s easier when you talk about it ‘sead of bottling it.”

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek, looking back out at the trees. “‘S because Merle  _ was  _ the last one.” That was that.

Daryl stored away what Rick said in the back of his head. Rick was just content to quietly sit next to Daryl, which was weird. People always sat next to him and talked, talked, talked, talked, but Rick just happily sat in silence. Slowly, Daryl’s coming to understand that  _ maybe  _ Rick isn’t like the other people he’s known.

Just because he’s not like Merle’s friends doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy, though.

After a healthy dose of quiet, it starts to get too quiet (if that can be a thing). Daryl is a listener, he enjoys listening in manageable bits. An hour of taking, two hours of silence, thirty minutes of talking, one hour of alone time. Sometimes-  _ rarely _ \- Daryl can listen for a day, but that's super uncommon. That’s why Merle was so goddamn annoying. Shane and him would get along well.

“Tell me about yourself,” Rick said. It was almost a command.

Daryl turned to him, furrowed brows and thin lips. Rick leaned back on his hands, the shifting of rocks on concrete as his hands were stabbed. The easy smile never left Rick’s face.

“What do ya’ want?”, Daryl asked.

“What do you like to do? What did you do before besides for drifting?”

Daryl had to think about that. What  _ did  _ he like? He liked hunting and fishing before, he likes the quiet and tracking, whittling is a small hobby he has, hiking when he could was a thing he used to do before walkers showed up. Now he finds himself to be sitting for longer periods of time, killing walkers and taking care of the prison at night when everyone besides for the guard(s) those nights were asleep.

“Didn’t do anythin’ other than drift. Got in trouble, was hated by everyone. Walked a lot too,” Daryl finally answered.

“Any hobbies?”

“Whittlin’ I guess, tinkerin’, ridin’, huntin’ n’ trackin’.”

Rick nodded. “See, we’re getting somewhere.”

Daryl sent him an annoyed look.  _ Not getting anywhere, Rick Grimes _ . Rick pushed the plate towards Daryl, urging him to eat. Daryl shook his head, saying that Lori needed it to recover from birth.

Rick shook his head back. “You need to eat too, everyone’s given some of their food to Lori already.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes. “How’d they know?”

Rick raised his brows slowly, looking at Daryl with an exasperated expression. “I told them, now eat.”

Daryl frowned. “They shouldn’t have ta’ do that,” Daryl mumbled, pushing the plate back to Rick with a, “not hungry.”

“You’re hungry,” Rick determined from Daryl’s traitorous stomach growling. “You shouldn't have to do that either, and they could have said no, but they didn’t.”

Daryl pursed his lips, sending Rick a hard look. Two stubborn men butting heads, how fun. Rick had the most intense blue eyes Daryl’s ever seen, even more intense than Pa’s eyes on a bad day. It was like he was looking into Daryl’s fucking soul and sucking it out of him. Daryl was just, still, so tired.

Daryl finally took the plate, sloshing the soup on it with the force that he snatched the plate away from Rick. Rick put his hands in the air in a mock surrender. Daryl was hunched over the plate, like he thought someone was going to steal it. He dug his hands into the bread and swallowed fist-fulls. Daryl was acting like he never got the luxury of eating in peace.

…

Now that he thinks about it he hasn’t ever. The closest he’s gotten to a nice meal was when he got lost in the woods, wiping his ass with that damn poison oak and ate that delicious sandwich once he got back to Pa’s house. It wasn’t home, it was just Dad’s house. Daryl hasn’t had a home ever.

Daryl basically licked the soup clean off of the plate, maybe he was a  _ bit  _ more hungry than he thought. Rick still sat quietly, not mentioning Daryl’s eating habits which was amazing. Usually Daryl tried his best to eat alone, but if he asked Rick to go, Rick would probably not move an inch. 

Daryl, surprisingly, broke the silence this time, “‘s Lori n’ the asskicker alright?”

“Yeah, they’re both fine. Hershel was able to stitch up that tear,” Rick answered. He then turned to look from the trees to Daryl. “You’ve earned your place, you know that, right? You can join us for dinners and meetings and you can live with us. You’ve  _ earned  _ that. It’s getting colder too, it’s warmer inside a cell than up here.”

“Lil’ bit’a’ cold never hurt anyone.”

“Well, the cold has killed people so I don’t know about  _ that _ ,” Rick laughed. Daryl could hear the underlying message,  _ come inside, we’re worried, we don’t want you to die, you belong _ .

“‘M fine,” Daryl grumbled, taking the rest of the grains and stuffing them inside of his mouth.

Shoving grains into your mouth was a pretty good way to let someone know if they talk more about this subject they’re going to get assaulted with a deadly weapon. Rick nodded, like he heard Daryl loud and clear, going back to looking forward. The silence was turning from comfortable to too much too fast again. Daryl’s mind was blank, adding to the silence even more. 

Rick had bags under his eyes, maybe not as distinct as Daryl’s, but they’re there. It wasn’t hard to see that Rick was exhausted, mostly physically, but, of course, mentally too. The whole thing with the seemingly never ending attacks from the walker herds and Lori giving birth with a guy no one really knows and losing another group member was obviously taking a toll on Rick. He looked so drained and just…  _ Sad. _

“‘S not ‘chur fault, ya’ know,” Daryl said.

Rick’s head perked up a smidge, but just barely. 

“What?”

“Jacqui n’ not bein’ by Lori, not chur’ fault,” Daryl explained.

“I made you suffer too by not being there,” Rick said, turning his head towards Daryl but looking down at his knees still. “We were split because I wasn’t observant enough to notice the break in the fences and the open doors.”

Daryl shook his head. “Y'all coulda’ been more observant, I coulda’ been more observant. ‘S not just you.” Daryl paused, scrunching his nose and taking a deep breath in. “If anyone’s ta’ blame fer’ Jacqui, would be me.”

Rick immediately shook his head frantically. “No, I wasn’t there, ‘s my fault.”

“N’ I  _ was _ .” 

Rick scratched his head with a sigh. “Neither of us are going to win, but you have to know it wasn’t your fault.”

“N’ it wasn’t yer’s.”

Silence, then more talking. This was getting very uncomfortable.

“I just… Jesus, Daryl,” Rick said, “you shouldn’t have had to see that, ‘specially not twice.”

Daryl shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the trees. “Don’t want no  _ pity _ .”

“Not pity, just, wishing.”

“Wishin'?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, “wishing for a better future, wishing that you didn’t have to do so much.” Rick looked at the concrete of the roof, before dipping his head slightly to meet Daryl’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Daryl’s frown deepened, he looked slightly disgusted now. “What?”

“Thank you. I never told you, but thanks. You didn’t  _ have _ to bring back Sophia, or save us from that small herd. You didn’t  _ have _ to stay and help us clear the yard, you didn’t  _ have _ to help Lori and the baby. You could make it just fine on your own, damn, you might be  _ better  _ on your own.”

“This  _ supposed  _ to make me stay?” Daryl let out a small huff of laughter as Rick chuckled.

“Hell yeah it is. You’re invaluable, don’t forget that,” Rick said, his voice weaning into a whisper at the end.

Daryl’s throat constricted, his shoulders hurt from being tense for so long. He pulled his arms into his lap further, making himself smaller. Rick nodded, standing up and taking his empty plate from the ground, leaving the half empty cup.

“Think about it,” Rick said before he walked down the ladder. At Daryl’s questioning sound, Rick elaborated, “joining us, think about it.”

Then Rick awkwardly made his way down the ladder, leaving Daryl with the trees and his thoughts. Did Rick mean that? He’s not invaluable, anyone can learn to hunt and track, it’s not that special. Sometimes he can only bring back one squirrel, and he doesn’t even share it with anyone. What the fuck made Daryl so invaluable in Rick’s eyes?

God, his brain was such a double crossing, backstabbing, sonofabitch.

Daryl twisted his neck from side to side, getting cracks and pops. His shoulders hurt from the tenseness and from him sitting on his haunches for so long. Stretching, he wiggled into, what was basically now, his nest. He had a nice collection going now. He found one more pin and two more Expo pens when he was wandering around this morning. He had been hanging the pins up via poking holes through the tarp. This was his tenth pin, it was a rainbow with a unicorn.

Everything was screaming at him to think more about what Rick had said. No matter how hard he tried to look for a distraction, something always reminded him. Was it just a complement? Is Rick trying to do something? What the fuck was going on? Daryl ground the heels of his hand into his eyes until he saw colored spots.

Good  _ god _ ,  _ man _ ! This is bullshit! Rick is a master of getting into Daryl’s head and not leaving. Rick sticks in there like a damn tick and doesn’t let the fuck  _ go _ . He doesn't know what to do, join them for dinner? Could be awkward. He might do something wrong. Table manors? Children? How was the little asskicker doing? There he goes, worrying about a baby that isn’t his again.

He yawned, all of this thinking is doing shit to his brain. Dixon’s aren’t meant for thinking, just acting and yelling. Judging by the sun’s position, it was, what, two o’clock? Two thirty? Asskicker would be asleep by now. The group was loud as fuck, they would wander out into the yard and talk while sun bathing, it’s the only reason Daryl know’s the baby’s rough schedule.

The group was something. A shit ton of people sewn into a family. They were weak, but together, they’re extremely strong. It’s just time for them to be strong alone as well.

The rain pittered on the blue tarp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in this they're obviously not going to be spending winter out on the road. No duh. They're already at the prison (wow, powerful stuff), they're not gonna suffer on the road. But like, would they really suffer during the Georgian winter? 
> 
> Remember when I said I was painfully northern? Yeah, I live in Wisconsin, so like, very far up north. Summer will be easy to write, Georgian summers and Wisconsin summers are close to the same. Wisconsin summers (at least in the south west of Wisconsin where I am) are around 92 degrees F to 72, it rarely goes up to 95 F, but often enough to mention it. Georgia has close enough to the same average to where it won't be hard to write summers.
> 
> My issue is the winters. Wisconsin winters are usually around 0 degrees F to -5, sometimes (but really rarely) -10 or less. Georgian winters average appears to be around 55 to 35, Jesus that's warm as balls! Georgia hardly has snow either, 1.4 inches average each year. Wisconsin gets 42 inches. Wow. What a fuckin' difference. I'm basically screaming in pain for my future self with writing the coming winter. 
> 
> I want them to suffer, I want it to be really fucking cold and dead. The coldest temp. in Georgia ever recorded was -10, so I'm just going to be like, "whooo, it just gonna be cold this year and it's gonna snow a lot. 🤷♀️"


	19. I feel the SPARKS, MAN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 35,850 words of Daryl hating everyone and everything, it's time for romance. Carol's the best supportive wingman and the best human outside of Rick that Daryl's ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've officially made it 100 pages! Holy shit my guy(s) I just can't like-
> 
> So I write this on a google doc, yeah? I write comments on certain parts of my chapters when I have something to add or just plain old jokes to fill the void in my heart. I got one that I really like in this chapter, so I'll put it in the end notes.
> 
> Thanks for all of the support by the way! I can't believe it, man. I've been meaning to thank you guys again, just had to get this chapter done before I could do that. As I was writing this, this work hit 2,000 hits! Thank you for reading I freaking can't anymore hhhhhhh. 
> 
> You're all going to kill me I swear.
> 
> Also, they're finally making progression. Wow. ( ﾟヮﾟ)

Daryl wrung out his hair as he walked into the prison’s door and down the echoing halls. The rain had beat down on his head as he basically threw himself down the ladder and ran into the prison. He had slept for about three hours and it was somewhere around dinner. The smell of food was wafting down the halls from the small kitchen set up. Merle’s jacket was shimmering with the rain that had run down his shoulders, getting heavier and heavier. He took it off, carrying it in his hand.

Daryl shook off like a dog before he opened the barred door leading to the dark halls, gaining the attention of literally everyone in the room. They paused their conversations, then went back to them once they realized there was nothing of real interest. Lori smiled at him softly, standing up to greet him with Lil’ Asskicker in her arms.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with that jacket off,” she said.

“Haven’t seen me that much really,” Daryl replied, shrugging.

“Let me get you some.” She pointed at the large pot of what smelled to be chicken noodle soup. Daryl would complain about how much soup he was eating in one day if he was picky. He’s really the farthest thing from picky.

Lori handed the swaddled baby to Daryl, who flinched as the Asskicker was set in his arms. He did not expect that.

“I-”, he started, but was shut up by Lori literally just walking away.

He was pretty much screaming in his own head and by the amused look Carol wore, it was pretty obvious. Shane was narrowing his eyes and whispering to Rick, who frowned and furrowed his brows, whispering sharply back.

The little girl was adorable. Daryl just wanted to punch her, that’s how cute she was. He’s having a visceral reaction to this slug. The asskicker was looking at him, actually tracking his movements and scanning his face. She reached for him, cooing curiously. He brought her closer and she slapped a hand on his cheek a few times, smiling with a toothless mouth and bubbling at the mouth with drool. It was utterly and unequivocally adorable. 

She went back to pulling at his small beard like she did before, then she got bored of playing with the coarse hair, so she moved on to the hair on his head. She yanked and pulled on the growing strands, patting the greasy hair and basically jerkily petting him. Daryl doesn’t think he could stop the little monster, it was too sweet. Her hands roamed his face a bit more before she found it uninteresting. Lori was there with his food once the baby quit patting him.

“Here,” she said, trading him the food for the baby.

He dipped his head down in a nod, grunting. Lori smiled softly at him. It’s weird, she did a complete one-eighty on him. It wasn’t like Shane, she didn’t actively seek him out, she didn’t really voice her distaste for the redneck. She just gave him these  _ looks _ , the kind of look where you know they don’t like you, but they’re too scared to actually say anything. She’s going out of her way to be friendly now and it’s fucking scaring Daryl. What was she trying to pull? What is her motive? 

_ Don’t trust her, don’t trust her, don’t trust her, don’t trust her, don’t trust her, don’t trust her. _

Daryl leaned against the wall, partially in the shadows. Merle’s jacket was still hanging from his arm. He forced himself to eat slow, manners or some shit. The prisoners were still here, sitting at their own tables, the man with long, dark hair was darting his narrowed eyes around before they landed on Daryl, narrowing further in suspicion. Daryl narrowed his eyes back, curling his lips up in a defensive snarl.

Daryl shifted, slightly blocking his food and in turn, what he was doing, from the ex-inmate. He ate more bread, but, luckily, not all was the same. Instead of grains there was jerky, how long had it been since he had jerky? This was the kind of manufactured stuff, it’s not like homemade beef jerky of venison jerky. Daryl doesn’t think they should be wasting this jerky now, but alas, he doesn’t know how long it’s been sitting. Could have been six months or even a year, even then, it would have another year left. He should make more.

Been here two seconds and he’s already caring for the group. Well, most of them. Maybe not Shane. Or the prisoners. Or people he doesn’t really know. Okay, so not most of them. Daryl drank the soup out of the plate, pretty much ignoring the spoon he was given. That was a slip up on the whole manners thing. The jerky was tough, like it should be, and made him jerk his head back to actually bite off a piece. As he was playing probably too much attention to the jerky, Sophia and Carl wandered over to him.

They poked his left butt pocket and he startled, turning to look at them with a half-assed scowl.

“Tha’ fuck you doin’?”, he asked. He’s not going to censor himself for the sake of these kids’ innocence.

“Sophia saw chocolate, she wanted to have it,” Carl said, pointing an accusing finger at the girl.

Sophia hissed back, “did not!”

Carl was such a backstabber. Sophia was trying her best to convince Daryl that it wasn’t her idea, it was Carl’s.

“Sophia,” Daryl crouched down, getting level to her with the most serious expression he could whip up at the moment, “did you see the chocolate?”

She paused, pursing her lips as she nodded. It looked more like a twitch.

“Was it your idea?”

She was silent, actually, the whole room was. She broke out into an evil grin, nodding.

“Yer’ evil, Brussel Sprout.” He dug in his back pocket, taking out the chocolate that was  _ meant for himself _ and handed it to her, saying, “‘m impressed.”

Sophia cheered and pretty much skipped away. Carl looked mystified and slightly jealous. Daryl rolled his eyes, sighing.

“Got some more on the roof,” Carl’s face lightened, “I’ll get chu’ some later.”

Carl nodded, walking away with swinging arms to, presumably, find Sophia and gloat. Daryl’s tempted to give the kid one of the little mints he found in a home. He shook his head to himself, no matter how much he wanted to, he would make it fair. Sophia got a Hershey's bar, Carl will too.

Rick had come over after he delivered his plate to Carol who was on cleaning duty with Glenn to help.

“That was awfully nice of you,” he said, watching as Daryl took a gulp of jerky.

“‘S nothin’. Them kids liked the sodas before.”

Rick grinned, “knew that was you. All the sudden those two skipped over all giddy like and asked Lori, me, Carol, and Ed if they could drink them. Sophia’s dad took hers, poor little girl.”

Daryl’s eye twitched at that.

“What?”

Rick’s brows raised, “hm?”

“Her dad, Ed’s his name?” Rick nodded. “He took ‘er fuckin’...” Daryl had to take a deep breath to calm himself. Mumbling some swears at Ed, even though the man was too far to actually hear them.

Rick was giving him a strange look. Daryl narrowed his eyes and Rick shook his head. It wasn’t in a condescending way, it was more a nod of acceptance, like, “ _ guess this is how it’s going to be _ .”

“I’m glad you came down here,” Rick said softly. “Have you thought about it?”

Daryl cocked his head.

“About joining us inside the cell block.”

Daryl’s face twisted.  _ No, I’ve just been thinking about the, “you’re invaluable,” part because what the fuck was that _ ? Daryl nodded. “Yea’.” It’s just smart from a survival standpoint… Yes… 

“Yeah?”, Rick asked, hopeful.

“Yea’, man,” Daryl confirmed. He dipped his head in a nod at Rick. Merle would be screaming at him about being a submissive bitch or something, but, to be honest, Daryl’s too content with looking at Rick’s face right now to care too much.

Rick sent him a smile and nodded back, giving Daryl equal footing or some shit like that.

_ He’s smiling because of you _ , his mind helpfully provided him. He cursed his own thoughts out.

Rick touched his arm gently, more hovering than touching. Daryl jumped, sending Rick a confused look then a glare, brisling as he pulled his arm behind himself.

“Are you okay?”, Rick asked.

“Yea’, why?”, Daryl answered.

Rick gave him a weird look, a mix of confusion and pity. Daryl pursed his lips, slightly narrowing his eyes.

“You didn’t answer me,” Rick explained. “Do you need anything? Food, water, help with moving your things?”

Daryl shrugged, shaking his head as he raised a hand to bite on his thumbnail. He was tempted to ask for help just to talk to Rick- or well, more accurately, be talked at, but he’s already fighting off a hot red blush.

“ _ You’re invaluable _ ,” helpfully flashed in his mind’s eye.  _ Shit, ‘m goin’ crazy here _ .

“‘M fine,” Daryl mumbled from behind his nail and dipped his head down, focusing on both of their feet.

Rick shifted slightly, favoring his right leg with a cocked hip as he lightly brushed a piece of hair away from Daryl’s brow. Daryl jumped slightly, surprise obvious on his face. He didn’t pull away, but Rick did, clearing his throat and raising a hand up to cover his mouth.

“Gonna go- uh- ‘round the fence,” Rick said slowly, he was trying to cover up how surprised he was with his own actions, but was failing miserably.

Rick basically ran away and Carol sauntered over with a sly smirk and a rifle over her shoulder.

“Told you he was looking at cha’,” she mocked lightly, patting Daryl’s bicep in a bro manner.

Daryl opened his mouth, then closed it and looked up from a nearby table’s legs that he spaced out on.

“I hate chu’,” he half-heartedly hissed through clenched teeth.

Shane stood up with a loud scrape of his chair, having a vice grip on his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Daryl, lips set in a straight line. He watched Daryl closely the entire time he scrapped his plate and dumped it into the sink with a clank. Glenn whined at the fact he had one more extra plate to dry. Carol mumbled a quick, “what climbed up his ass?” The two watched as Shane stomped into his cell. Glenn was about to have two extra plates now as Carol grabbed Daryl’s plate out of his hands and put it in as well, dragging Daryl into a cell. She left Glenn to do all of the cleaning on his own.

She sat Daryl down and looked directly into Daryl’s eyes. They were in her and Ed’s cell. It was simple, only decorated with a bedside table and a wilting flower in a beer bottle.

“You like Rick,” she finally said, leaning back with a proud smirk playing on her lips.

Daryl wasn’t one to be embarrassed normally, mostly because he doesn’t get into these situations ever. He slightly sputtered, hunching over with his elbows on his knees. Did he like Rick? Rick was sweet, one of the nicest people Daryl ever met, he was determined, proud of his son, a good ass leader no matter what he believes, and is so hopeful all the time. He was so hopeful he could probably compensate everyone in his group with it if they fell into hopelessness themselves.

“I dunno,” Daryl answered truthfully. 

Carol leaned forward again, placing a hand over Daryl’s that was framing his face.

Carol made a clicking noise, a small, “tck,” in sadness. “‘S okay, Pookie,” she said, taking Daryl’s hand away from his head to hold it between her small, fragie ones.

The nickname didn’t bother him at all. He wore a weird expression as he looked to Carol. “Not gonna say nothin’?”, he asked.

Carol’s eyebrows furrowed and twisted over her eyelids, a mix of fury and overwhelming sadness.

“No, I would never out you,” she said softly, rubbing Daryl’s knuckles with her thumb. “I’ll never, ever do that.”

Daryl nodded, looking at her as he bit his lip. “Jus’. . . Leave it, ‘kay? Not ready fer’ anythin’,” he said just barely above a whisper.

“‘Course,” she said, nodding. Carol patted Daryl’s cheek, cracking into a smile. “I’m gonna be your wingman,” she laughed. Daryl rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Alright, first, you need to bathe, like,  _ really bathe _ . Then, you need new clothes, change them everyday- yeah I see you, I see you never changing your clothes. You need a hair cut too-”

“A’right, that’s where I cut chu’ off, lady,” Daryl interrupted, stroking a hand over his growing hair with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

“Okay,” Carol laughed. It was a real, full, hard belly laugh. Daryl’s never heard something like that caused by him unless you count all the times Merle laughed at something he did wrong or Merle’s friends did. “What about brushing it out? You have grease, blood, mud, probably branches too, wouldn’t be surprised if you had a rat hiding in there either.”

This calm, playful banter lasted for the rest of the night until Carol pulled out a cot for Daryl, she said she, “didn’t want Daryl to sleep on the cold, hard, unforgiving ground.”

  
Daryl laughed, like, he really  _ laughed _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alright, the comment that I said I would put from my doc into here. I was rolling around my bed while writing this, not being hyperbolic. I'm really tired. I was 100% serious while writing this before I went back and reread it and fucking died.)
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
> Original version [of the end]:
> 
> Glenn was about to have two extra plate now as Carol grabbed Daryl’s plate out of his hands and put it in as well, dragging Daryl out of the prison. She left Glenn to do all of the cleaning on his own.
> 
> “Okay,” she said after taking a breath of fresh air. “Sit.” She pulled out a chair, it was one of those cheap, plastic school chairs from elementary, uncomfortable and really small. “So, Rick likes you, yeah?”
> 
> Daryl shrugged.
> 
> “Don’t pull any bullshit on me, Daryl. I’ll say it again: Rick likes you, yeah?”
> 
> Daryl nodded with his brows furrowed in disbelief and confusion.
> 
> “Good,” Carol praised, nodding approvingly. “You like him too, mhm?”
> 
> Daryl shrugged again, his shoulders rising into a hunch.
> 
> Carol let out and exasperated breath, holding a finger up in a wait here. She ran back into the prison and was back out with Maggie, pushing her by her shoulders as she just let it happen with wide eyes.
> 
> “Rick likes Daryl. Daryl doesn’t know if he likes Rick,” Carol simply said to Maggie. The girl snapped her fingers, face turning from confusion and mild annoyance to determination.
> 
> “Ah, yeah! Easy.” Maggie turned to Daryl, leaned down like an adult talking to a child. “How do you feel when Rick’s around you, Sweetie?”, She asked, full of southern hospitality.
> 
> Daryl shrugged and Carol gritted her teeth, she seemed about ready to pull her hair out. Her expression was reading, “just fucking give an auditory answer!” Daryl stuck his tongue out at her.
> 
> Maggie was amused.
> 
> “Daryl,” Maggie chided after the amusement wore off. “Answer the question.”
> 
> Daryl looked her straight in the eye and sat in complete silence for a minute, then he stuck his tongue out.
> 
> FIN~
> 
> (I wrote this at 3 AM man. I've stayed up all tonight (it's 6:40 AM where I am), not yesterday but the day before, and not yesterday but the day before's night and I got an eye doctor appointment yesterday and my eyes still hurt. I needed humor T~T
> 
> I've had to do so much research into how crossbows work and how gutting game and skinning them works that now whenever I go on YouTube mobile (you know on your recommend page when you scroll down a bit and you see that long line of ads? Yeah there) I have camo shirts, cheezy hunting apparel (e.x. I'M A HUNTER with a shit ton of text about hunting game in the middle of I'M A and HUNTER with a silhouette of a man using a bow and arrow), backpacks, knives, bolts, and crossbows. I hurt. I hurt so much.)


	20. That Shower Was Pretty Useless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showering. Carol being a good wingman still. A "random" woman just "magically" appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really fucking long. Like, REALLY long. 3,503 words. I have some news in the end notes though! So if you're interested in another work I'm working on you can check that out.
> 
> Let's get this story moving!

Daryl was fully rested for once, warm and snug in his burrito of blankets. Carol had shoved him full of quilts and sleeping bags as a, "precaution for the cold night.” She probably just wanted to see if she could burrito-fy him. He felt a creeping of panic up his spine, but he just easily slipped out of the pile of blankets and it fizzled out.

He got a few looks when he wandered out of Carol’s cell (room? Cell? Both?), but you know, whatever. Carol had a plate ready for him by the time he came back inside from pissing. He doesn’t know where the bathrooms are. That made him realize, he doesn’t know the layout of the prison besides for the cellblock, boiler room, and his nest.

Thinking of his nest, he needs to get that chocolate for Carl and his things. He doesn’t have much that he needs to bring in, lots of the stuff there can just stay until spring comes around. Breakfast was oatmeal (how?) and water.

“Got any cinnamon?”, he asked Carol. She smacked him with a spoon and grumbled in discontent as she realized she got the spoon dirty with the dried mud caked on Daryl.

She pointed the spoon menacingly at Daryl. “You’re going to have a busy day today,” she said, “you have to clean all of my blankets and yourself.” She winked at him.

Daryl grunted, scowl setting in.

Carol mock-pouted. “Boohoo, Pookie, you’re full of mud and blood from God knows where. And I let you use those blankets so be grateful.”

Daryl huffed. “Last I remembered ya’ was burritoin’ me, didn’t ask fer’ shit.”

Carol’s scowl was ten times more terrifying than Daryl’s, and he quickly backed away, taking his steaming oatmeal away before Carol could take it back. He leaned back in the spot he was at last night. Normally, Daryl would just suck the oatmeal into his mouth via the bowl and skip the middleman being the spoon, but, well,  _ manors n’ shit _ . Also impressing Rick, very much impressing Rick. He doesn’t think he could ever impress the man though, he’s Daryl  _ Dixon  _ for God’s sake.

Speak of the devil, Rick came over with his own half emptied bowl of oatmeal, leaning against the wall next to Daryl.

“Sorry for touching you,” Rick apologized. Daryl frowned.  _ What _ ? “Should have asked.”

Rick was  _ guilty _ ? Daryl looked at Rick, giving the man a dumb look before he realized the probably just looked mocking.

“Naw,” Daryl said. “‘S fine.”

Rick shook his head, crossing his arms. “No, it wasn’t.”

Daryl set his lips in a straight line. “Rick, ‘s fine. Seriously, ‘s fine.”

Rick finally got it after a hard calculating gaze and a few seconds of silence; Daryl wasn’t saying that it was fine because he was bothered and couldn’t say that it wasn’t okay, but it was literally fine. Daryl literally didn’t really care.

_ Of course you do _ , Daryl’s mind hissed. He very much did care, but not like Rick was thinking. He cared  _ way  _ too fucking much to be healthy.

He’s not sure when he started thinking about Rick like this. He knows his thoughts went from  _ I hate him _ to  _ he’s not like others I’ve met _ to  _ he’s maybe trustworthy  _ to  _ oh Jesus no I’ve been swooped the hell up _ . Rick was looking at him with a gleam in his eyes, Daryl doesn’t know what that means. Carol was watching them closely, ducking her head down a few times to smile at her plate, so definitely not hiding her love for Daryl’s suffering.

Rick tested the waters by taking Daryl’s bowl after he finished. Rick had worked down on his half empty bowl while Daryl practically inhaled his with moderate manors. Rick’s hand very purposely brushed Daryl’s and that was  _ delicious _ . Once Rick was turned around, Daryl snapped his gaze over to Carol, eyes wide and lips set. Carol smiled and nodded, sending him a thumbs up.

Shane intercepted Rick when he was making his way back to Daryl, thrusting a thumb to the door leading to the outside. Rick nodded and sent Daryl an apologetic smile after he patted Shane’s shoulder.

“Shane needs me to look at the perimeter,” Rick said, nodding his head back to where Shane was waiting by the barred door, chatting to Carl. “I’ll catch up with you later? Gotta bring all of your things down anyway, yeah?”

Daryl mutely nodded, hand clenching at his side. He really,  _ really _ didn’t like Shane and Daryl knows Shane doesn’t like him either. Shane was the only one who wasn’t okay with Daryl at this point. Rick gave him another smile, but it was bright this time and that  _ almost  _ made it all better. Daryl was still salty as hell though.

Once Rick was gone, Carol dumped her plate and placed it on the counter, wandering over to Daryl’s side. She seemed to always have that rifle slung over her shoulder now. It was the same one Daryl gave her. It made Daryl get butterflies because Carol was so thankful that she kept it.

“What a cock blocker,” she mumbled.

Daryl distractedly hummed, before he realized what she said. “Rick got other, more  _ important _ , things ta’ do. ‘S fine.”

Carol gave Daryl a blank look. “Seriously? He’s so enamored by you that I think he would drop everything in a heartbeat to at least say hi.”

Daryl shook his head.  _ She’s such a wingman _ . “Wouldn’t say  _ enamored  _ is tha’ word fer’ it.”

Like Carol knew what he thought, she lightly punched his shoulder and said, “anyway, you need to still clean my sheets and yourself.” She took a whiff of the air, “get some clean clothes too. I’m doing a bad job as your dedicated wingman.”

He hasn’t really washed since Merle…  _ Left _ . He’s washed his hands, sure, washed his feet too once they cut open from walking too long, yeah, but he hadn’t really washed-washed, full body, naked type of thing. He just kept moving. Thinking about that, he’s getting real fucking antsy behind these fences again.

Carol narrowed her eyes, then grabbed his forearm, pulling him with her as she said, “common, Stupid.”

“New name?”, he asked. “Stupid? Kinda like it.”

Carol looked back at Daryl and set her lips, furrowing her brows. She looked slightly amused, though. Carol snagged moisturizer and a hair brush from her cell and Daryl immediately thought,  _ oh no _ . The halls, good  _ Lord _ the halls were crazy, but they eventually made it thanks to litteral signs on the walls, these people were leaving paper notes on the walls to know where the hell they were going.

The door labeled, “ _ bathroom _ ,” was opened by Carol. She locked it too and got a scared look from Daryl, which she laughed at. She retrieved an out of place wicker basket from under the sinks, much too nice for the place they were currently in. It was next to about six other baskets. Carol explained ideally while she shuffled through her basket that her, Sophia, and Ed shared one (to Ed’s insistence), Rick and Carl got another, Lori and Shane, Andrea and Amy, Hershel and Beth, Maggie and Glenn (of course), and T-dog didn’t mind sharing with the Little Asskicker. Carol said the ex-prisoners didn’t want one or two for themselves. The baskets had toiletries (though the meager supply of menstrual products were shared through the ladies) and other little things like hair brushes, perfume, deodorant for the needy, and personal things. Sophia had nail polish, it looked very cute.

“Strip,” Carol said, hands on her hips. 

Daryl froze.  _ What _ ? He gave her a look of confusion and mild panic.  _ What _ ? 

She started forward before Daryl held his hands up, gritting his teeth. There was no privacy in the showers, no walls, no curtains, no nothing besides for the shower heads and drains.

“Awe, Pookie,” Carol cooed. “Are you shy?”

Daryl was very unhappy and it was pretty evident on his face. Carol was obviously teasing him but it hit some nerves. Carol realized this after a bit and returned to the basket, not facing Daryl any more.

“It’s fine, I’ll look away, won’t look the whole time. I’ll blindfold myself with my sleeve,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood. It worked kind of.

Daryl shifted slightly, giving a soft, “don’t chu’  _ dare  _ look, lady.” 

He quickly shucked his clothes to avoid the nerves of taking his time. This was so far into the realm of uncomfortable that it’s unbelievable. 

“We were thinking about putting up sheets in here and in our cells, maybe even some real doors on the showers if we can find some,” Carol chatted, trying to avoid the silence that very obviously is bothering Daryl. She can hear how much he’s shifting on the slick tiles. “Maybe we’ll be able to patch up the hole in the fence and the walls better too.”

Daryl thought on that. “‘S the one that one herd got through?”, his voice lightly shook.

“That’s the one,” Carol said. She shuffled over to the door, Daryl’s narrowed eyes watching for any sign that she’ll suddenly turn around.

There’s no particular reason why he’s so untrustworthy right now, Carol wouldn’t do that to him, right? The shampoo and conditioner was sitting out on the counter, body soap nearby. The bathroom was cold, so was the water, but it was slightly less so and Daryl found himself unwilling to move out to retrieve the soaps.

“Those soaps ones I can use?”, he asked.

“Yeah, if you don’t rub them in well, I’m gonna have to do it myself,” Carol said, it was an empty threat.

Just then Daryl realized why she moved over to the door. One, was that he could get to soap without having to get too close to her and two, to watch the door in case anyone were to walk in. He’s gonna  _ melt _ , _ that's so sweet _ . He chanced it, running out from under the water, he snagged the soap from as far away as possible and basically sprinted back to the water. 

Carol knew what he did and laughed, asking, “you cold yet?”

Daryl flipped her off before he realized she couldn’t see it. “Just flipped ya’ the bird,” he provided commentary.

Carol scoffed, “all I do for you. . .”

Daryl swiped a hand that was covered in shampoo through his hair, fingers catching on snags and dried clumps of whatever was in there. He washed it out and copied it with the conditioner.

“Mmmm,” Carol hummed, “smells like strawberry.”

Yeah, the shampoo was strawberry scented and the conditioner was coconut, a gross combo.

“You’re going to smell wonderful,” Carol laughed. “Out with the old in with the new.”

“Talkin’ ‘bout mah’ smell or how ‘m gonna be a whole new man after this, now?”

Washing his body was awkward, he really had to dig in to get the months old dirt and blood out of the ridges in his skin. Part of him wondered if some of the blood was Merle’s or not, but he quickly banished that thought and scrubbed harder. He scrubbed so hard he was pink and in some places, there were small,  _ extremely small _ ,  _ itty bitty  _ leaks of blood from out of his rubbed off skin.

Daryl grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his chest like a girl, even though he knows there are some scars still peeking out. At least there was none that high on his chest. He turned off the water and brought the soaps back over to the counter, lining them up. Carol asked if she could turn around and Daryl grunted in a yes.

“Holy smokes!”, she playfully exclaimed. “You  _ are  _ a new man! And you have some freckles!”

Now she’s seeing shit, he doesn’t have freckles. He knows, he had always wanted some when he was younger. Strained himself in the mirror every night like that would make freckles just pop out of nowhere. It was like he felt like having cute freckles like all of the other kids would make Dad nice all of the sudden. 

It’s whatever.

Daryl adjusted the towel and glowered at Carol.

“I don’t got no  _ freckles _ .”

“Mhm,” she said, unconvinced even though he literally has the fairest skin you’ve ever seen underneath all of those clothes. “Sit.” She patted the countertop. Would it support his weight? One way to find out.

It was fine. It creaked once or twice and Daryl gripped the edge in a vice grip. It was (kind of) secure on the wall, but the metal holding the concrete on the wall was rusting which was worrying. Carol whipped out a comb and brush.  _ Oh no _ .

“Lean down,” she commanded, motioning with the purple comb.

She was scary. Leaning down, he flinched when her hands gently went through his choppy hair. It was almost motherly.

“Calm down, just going to brush your ratty hair.”

Daryl forced himself to not flinch as she ran her fingers through his hair, following it with the comb. She did this for a while, she did this for a while, lightly chatting on about Sophia, Ed, her old friends, before the apocalypse. His hair didn’t need that much attention, Daryl didn’t know what she was doing.

He felt extremely pissed off for no reason. Daryl was fidgeting and biting at his thumb, itching to go. He felt like he was doing the exact  _ opposite  _ of what Merle asked of him. Carol sighed and dropped her hands from his hair onto his shoulders, looking defeated.

“As your wingman, I have to make sure you’re the best you can be,” she started, “but you may go.”

Daryl practically hopped off of the counter. As he reached for his clothes, his hand was smacked away.

“No, you are  _ not  _ wearing those,” Carol said, looking at the lump of clothes with a glare. “You’re so clean.”

Daryl shrugged. He has clothes in his nest. 

“‘Nother towel,” he pretty much demanded.

Carol narrowed her eyes.

Daryl sighed. “Please.”

She nodded and Daryl slung it over his shoulders, now his scars were covered and he was warmer. He was hunched over, basically following Carol back into the, more or less, “living space”.

He skittered out of there before anyone could say a thing. Carol reminded him to wash her blankets once again.

The path to the yard was straight forward, quite literally. The door to the outside needed to be oiled  _ badly _ . The air inside the prison was kind of warmer, all of the working bodies and the running fires in the kitchen made the space warm. Outside was freezing, it would be somewhere around thirty or so degrees fahrenheit if he had to guess, it took Daryl’s breath away. The rungs on the ladder were a biting cold, making his feet have a weird feeling, like his skin was pruning from the feel of the metal rungs. His nest was cold from not being used and, for some reason, it almost made him sad. This winter would be even more miserable than the ones in the past.

A simple white shirt with sweatpants was all he had. It was all he could find around. He still wants to find cold clothes for everyone, the kids especially. They shouldn’t have to tough out the winter like he had, that really fucking sucked. Slapping those bad boys on, he realized he would have to make it back down the ladder, into the prison, through the halls, and back to the bathroom to retrieve his clothes and shoes. Slapping himself was of top priority.

He collected a few blankets, the towels, his crossbow and the few bolts he had, and the backpack that was leaned against the “wall” of the nest. He threw another blanket over the open doorway of the nest, looking around and laying broken chunks of sharp concrete on the bottom to hold it down. Now it was (moderately) winter-fied.

He clambered down the ladder, feet slapping against each rung with a bite of cold metal. He found his shoes with his socks stuffed in them, shirt, Merle’s jacket, and his ratty jeans folded on top of them neatly. Definitely Carol. 

Daryl looked around after he shoved his shoes on, forgoing the socks, finding no Rick and no Shane on the outer fences. There wasn’t anywhere to really hide out there (unless you count the guard towers, but Daryl didn’t see movement in any of them and no one dares walk into Maggie and Glenn’s shack), so he was pretty sure neither men were hiding. He decided to walk the fence. Daryl doesn’t  _ really  _ think the two actually went around the outside. It was a partially cloudy day, so the sun beating down on him wasn’t an issue, but the cold sure was. He shoved his clothes into his bag haphazardly and slung his crossbow over his shoulder, setting down his things to deal with later.

The fences weren’t locked, it was like this group was  _ asking  _ to be killed. It was quiet, crickets, leaves shifting, grass brushing, gravel being stepped on. The air had the smell of bland snow mixed with a strong, almost gag worthy- even to Daryl’s standards. Walking a bit faster, he passed the second watch tower, finding a group of walkers pressed against the chain fence. A woman was clutching the fence, two walkers trailing behind her with jaws ripped and arms hacked off. It was sick, but what was more worrying was the red basket filled to the brim with food and water and the black, opaque trash bag puffy and filled with  _ some things _ . She had wild eyes, narrowed and suspicious. She was very obviously bleeding, and the walkers surrounding her took notice, turning to her slowly.

She took out a katana and Daryl’s first thought was,  _ holy shit _ , then his second was,  _ she’s going to totally die _ .

Decisions, so many decisions. He can’t. Merle would be yelling at him for being a weak ass, saving a little girl, fawning over an ex-pig, and saving a girl he didn’t know, even if it killed him. There were about ten walkers and Daryl had two bolts. He should probably have at least three, five if he was being good, but  _ two  _ was just miserable. Daryl would have to use his knife,  _ shit _ .

Daryl sprinted towards the front gate, reefing on the chain until the gate lifted. He basically threw himself outside, skidding over the gravel road and cutting into his sweatpants and his thigh. Grunting, he slammed his crossbow into a walker’s head, caving it’s skull in. He pulled the string back by sticking a foot between the string and the limb, only mildly struggling. It was exhilarating to be outside the fences, killing walkers and feeling the cold air instead of the warm nest or the stifling cells. Even one night inside of Carol’s cell was too much. How was he going to make it the entire winter?

There was a walker nearing the woman as she slashed at one in front of her, stumbling back towards the dead behind her. Daryl paused, hardly breathing as he nailed the walker in the forehead. He startled the woman but he killed the walker. Pulling the string back and slotting the bolt back into the flight groove, Daryl shot another trying to get to the woman again, putting his crossbow over his shoulder once done. He took out his knife, turning to shove it into the walker’s temple. People were finally running out of the prison, noticing Daryl and the woman struggling to hold off the seemingly never ending swarms of dead.

The gunshots would be drawing even more. Daryl’s leg was scratched up from the gravel and it fucking hurt. Rick was there with his Colt, he looked downright murderous and whoo, he looked  _ damn fine _ . Daryl rammed a shoulder into the chest of another walker, following it down and holding it with an arm as he got it in the eye. The woman had now collapsed, passed out from the looks of it. Daryl pretty much hovered over her, stabbing walker after walker sweat tickling his forehead.

_ So much for that shower _ , he grumbled to himself.

He basically fell on his face, his back hurt, his legs hurt, his arms hurt, really, his everything hurt. The woman was still breathing and the others were frantically looking for other walkers. There was none left. Daryl’s lungs hurt. Rick was next to him, saying something that was slightly muffled.

“What?”, Daryl asked, moving to face Rick with unfocused, tired eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Daryl nodded. He was fine, he’s had worse, much, much worse. Rick looked unbelieving. Very much unbelieving. 

“Come,” he softly demanded (if there's such a thing).

“The girl,” Daryl said, pointing to the shallowly breathing woman. 

“Hershel will look over her,” Rick compromised, holding a hand over Daryl’s bicep. Daryl looked between Rick’s hand and his face before nodding.

  
_ Maybe it’ll be okay _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that news I mentioned. I'm going to be working on some Rickyl stuff and thangs crack but it's taken seriously. It'll have: a lot of stuff and thangs (literally the first sentence is Rick and Daryl gettin' hot and dirty. It starts off at 100, my men), there's blowjobs, fingering, accidental voyeurism, embarrassed Daryl, hung Rick, coming out, and generally just Daryl suffering, others laughing at his pain, and Rick trying his best to not laugh.
> 
> Do with that information what you will my sweet, sweet readers. ;D


	21. IS THAT A MOMENT THAT I HEAR?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick cares about Daryl. Daryl not having underwear because lol N A K E Y. Shane's a dick. Michonne is a master of reading even the most guarded people. Glenn and Maggie are probably suffering idk. 🤷♀️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, GUYS I GOT THE CRACK FIC DONE! It's just literally porn I swear-   
> Ya like porn? Ya like more lovey dovey shit? Ya like Daryl suffering? You might like it.
> 
> Rickyl Crack Taken Seriously aka It's The Thirst, Thirstiest Time of The Year: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023360/chapters/68648481

Rick hadn’t let go of Daryl’s bicep until they got inside a cell.

“I have some gauze somewhere around here,” Rick said more to himself.

_ Oh. Rick’s cell. I’m in Rick Grimes’s cell _ . Daryl was going to short circuit. 

He was sitting on Rick’s bed, fiddling with his nails as Rick was searching for a roll of gauze.

“‘S just some scrapes,” Daryl mumbled.

The scrapes hurt and pulled each time his knee jumped. Why was he nervous? Well, besides the  _ obvious _ . If Merle was here, he probably would have been kept away from this embarrassment.

“Some scrapes that need to be cleaned,” Rick said back.

Rick’s hands were mildly clean, he had stayed back mostly and had shot all of the walkers he killed instead of stabbing. He kneeled in front of Daryl’s right leg, the one with the damage. This would have been made  _ so much worse  _ if Rick had sat next to him. Jesus, thinking about Rick leaning over him and looking down at his thigh… 

_ Please God help me _ .

Rick peered through the tattered sweatpants Daryl had on and tisked, grabbing a cloth and a water bottle. This was extremely personal.

“Can’t get a good look at it,” Rick said, peering up at Daryl.

Daryl knew, he definitely knew what Rick was getting at. Yup, his brain is short circuiting. A shame that one thought got through before it did though: _I don’t have any underwear_. His face started to burn before he could stop it, he was able to will away the water filling his eyes. Panic, right now was the time to panic. He couldn’t just say, “hey, got no undies man,” because that’s just fucking weird, he couldn’t say a simple, “no,” because then that would also be weird. A squeaky, “yes,” would just be kind of sad.

So he said, “got a blanket?” He asked for a goddamn blanket. Jesus Christ.

Rick looked so confused before he nodded, passing a blanket over. Good  _ Lord man _ , he could have been so screwed. He’s not in the safe zone until he has his pants back the fuck on though. Taking off his pants was it’s own unintuitive process, the scrapes on his thigh were pulling and the blanket threatened to fall off and Rick was looking at him all serious and confused like and just  _ Jesus Christ _ . He held onto the blanket tightly while Rick checked on his leg. Rick could see his hip, he definitely knew Daryl was practically naked. The scrapes were deeper than Daryl had thought and he got a glare for that. 

Rick washed the outside of each scrape, paying closer attention to the deepest ones. He then slathered them with a thin layer of antibiotic ointment and then wrapped it with the gauze roll. 

“Shoulda’ saved that,” Daryl mumbled once Rick stepped away to put the medical items down.

“They could have gotten infected,” Rick said back, tilting his head down to gesture at the scrapes.

“And…?”, Daryl urged Rick to continue, not seeing the issue. He’s gotten an infected wound before, it’s not anything.

Rick sent him an almost angry look. It said, “ _ are you fucking joking me right now? _ ” Daryl shook his head, knowing he wouldn’t win with this. Daryl shimmied into his pants and his shoulders dropped just a bit, at least that worry was dealt with. What would he do now? Just go away? Should he stay?

Thankfully, Rick saved him. “We need to bring your things down.”

Daryl said, “I brought ‘em down, they’re by the doors.”

Daryl made a move to get up but Rick put a hand out. “Stay, I’ll get it.”

_ No, no, no, no, no, no please don’t leave me in here _ -

Rick had already walked away. He already had to ( _ you didn’t have to _ , his brain helpfully reminded him) fight a bunch of walkers to save a girl and now he’s just plainly  _ agitated _ . He’s very much so agitated. He needs to get out of here, that lick of fresh air when he was fighting just made his hunger for the outside even worse.

Rick told him to stay though so dammit he’s going to stay!

“Rick- oh,” came a voice from the door.

Daryl’s head whipped up, finding Shane. _ Shit _ .

“What are you doing in here?”, he asked. He didn’t even seem to care about where Rick was.

“Rick’s goin’ outside,” Daryl mumbled, ignoring the question. If he can keep Rick out of hot water with Shane to the expense of himself he will.

“You didn’t fucking kill him, did you? Sitting there trying to look innocent,” Shane hissed. “I’ve seen those looks you’ve been giving him. I know what you’re trying to do.”

It seems like Shane’s willfully ignoring the fact that  _ Rick  _ actually made the first “move”. Again, Shane is  _ literally  _ the  _ only one _ who’s still not at least okay with Daryl at this point. This is fine, Daryl could deal with Shane’s fists and his words.

“You hurt anyone here and that’ll be the last line. You’ll be strung up in a goddamn tree,” Shane growled.

Shane walked closer, Daryl could probably smell his breath if he wanted to. He dropped his head, leaning away from Shane as the man invaded his space. Was this some kind of intimidation thing? Did he used to do this to other people? That thought made Daryl mad if true because yeah, he definitely feels intimidated. It reminds him of Pa and Merle, they did this a lot. They would get up real close in your face, so close that you could feel their breath on your cheek and would stare you down, their shoulders raised with aggression. Shane was doing that exact thing right now.

Shane was spewing some insults (the main one was how expendable Daryl is and that one really hurt) as Rick walked in because  _ of course he did _ .

“Shane? What the fuck are you doing?”

Shane straightened up immediately, leaving Daryl slightly curled in on himself.

“I was comin’ to tell you something,” Shane said. 

Rick set down Daryl’s bag of things by the door and stepped in, standing between the two to give them a false sense of distance. 

“Spill,” Rick said.

“Common,” Shane gestured to walk outside of the cell, shooting a look at Daryl.

“Whatever it is, you can say it in here.” Rick crossed his arms. He was mad.

“Okay,  _ fine _ ,” Shane practically spat out. “Michonne is the lady’s name, she woke up after Hershel fixed her. Glenn and Maggie, she knew who they were. They’re being held somewhere. That’s all she was willing to say.”

Rick hummed, nodding. “Alright.” He held out a hand for Daryl, who snapped his eyes to Shane and got up on his own. Rick definitely saw that.

The lady, Michonne, was awake, good. Maggie and Glenn are being held captive somewhere,  _ so not coche _ . The woman was drinking broth out of a bowl when they got to Hershel’s set up. She looked better, not good, but better. She wasn’t as pale and seemed to have gotten her balance back. 

_ She should be retrained _ .

“Hi,” Rick greeted. “I’m Rick Grimes.”

“Michonne,” she said, holding a hand out. She flinched slightly when Rick took it.

“Our people, Glenn and Maggie, where are they?”, Rick asked. 

Rick was worried- for a good reason. This was important to him. Now, it’s even more important to Daryl. He likes Glenn and Maggie well enough, they both seem fine, but he doesn’t really know them, he would probably care more if he did.

Michonne’s eyes searched the room, before landing on Daryl. She nodded at him. “Woodbury,” she said, “Woodbury is where they’re being kept.”

Daryl had a flash of that kid that was pointing a gun at him on the road that while back. He widened his eyes slightly.  _ Shouldn’t have let that kid go _ .

“The leader calls himself the Governor, full of charm. He’s bad news.” She was looking at Daryl like she was talking to him.

Daryl narrowed his eyes, challenging, agitation taking over.  _ What the fuck do you want _ ?

_ You know this place _ , she seemed to say.

Daryl’s lip curled into a snarl. She narrowed her eyes at him, like she was trying to figure him out. Daryl pushed off of the wall, walking out with his arms crossed tightly to his body. She watched him go before turning her attention back to Rick. Rick didn’t mention that.

Daryl limped outside, feeling almost choked in the prison. 

Rick walked up behind him a few minutes later, being ( _ somehow _ ) even louder than Shane. He had a thumb tucked into his front pocket, holding onto his gun belt with his other hand.

“Woodbury,” Rick said.

Daryl looked down at the ground. “Shouldn’t have let that kid go.”

Rick looked at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

“That kid in the woods. Pointed a gun at me, got me covered in blood when we was out on the road. Said he was from Woodbury.”  _ Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I killed him _ .

Rick, almost like he knew what Daryl was thinking (he probably did), cocked his head. “You did the right thing.”

Daryl’s face twisted. “Don’t seem like that.”

Daryl took a breath, crossing his arms again.

“You chose not to kill a kid, that was the right thing.” Rick leaned against the fence. “It wasn’t you who kidnapped Glenn and Maggie, it was Woodbury. We’re going to get them back.”

Daryl nodded. “The samurai gonna help?”

Rick smiled, answering with a, “yeah.”

“Got any plan yet?”, Daryl asked.

“No, not yet.” Rick bit the inside of his lip.

Daryl patted his forearm lightly, almost not touching. Rick’s fallen smile grew at that.

“We’ll get ‘em, don’t worry, man.” 

Was man too impersonal? Was it too personal? Jesus, how does comforting work. Rick’s hand raised, then hovered over Daryl’s shoulder blade. Rick had been touching him a lot more Daryl had noticed. Oh yeah, he  _ definitely  _ noticed. Neither man was breathing as they looked at one another. Daryl was the first one to look away, peering down at the ground after he leaned towards Rick’s hand. Rick gently rubbed Daryl’s shoulder blade with his thumb. His touch warmed Daryl’s skin like a heater.

“Let’s go inside,” Rick said, hand lingering a bit longer before he turned and stalked off.

_ Did we just have a moment _ ?

Shaking his head, hoping to rid himself of that thought. Daryl speed-walked after Rick into the prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment! They're actually finally fucking moving I swear to God. 
> 
> (P.S. Thank you all for the support! You guys are helping me through this really painful fucking year. Love you all ❤️)


	22. Phillip Fuckin' Blake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michonne trying to get revenge but failing miserably. Daryl panicking. Merle being idk. Daryl's suffering. Owie Governor meanie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah casual torture goes brrrr

Michonne, Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, and Shane would go to Woodbury and get Glenn and Maggie.

Michonne had a general idea about where the two lovers could be, but wasn’t one-hundred percent sure. They would pull up about a half of a mile or so out in case Woodbury had guards far out, then they would go in as a group. Or they  _ would  _ have if Michonne didn’t split off and get caught, making the group have to go back and get her making Daryl get caught as they were booking it to the front gates.

Daryl had told them to go, told Rick to live. Glenn and Maggie were out and Rick was fine, that’s all he really cared about. He didn’t have anyone left, Merle was dead and Rick was here. Rick was… Well, Daryl hadn’t really let himself think that hard on his opinions on Rick now (he used to definitely think a lot about how he hated everyone). He likes Rick, that part is obvious; he likes Rick’s personality, his looks, he just likes Rick as a whole. Daryl thinks he knows when he started liking Rick, like, more than just looking up to him. It was somewhere around when Rick showed him kindness and forgiveness after Lori gave birth, that had to be when his feelings started blooming. He just needed Rick to catapult him into an emotional frenzy and Carol to point it out for Daryl to actually get it.

So he sat in this crusty, wooden room, hands tied behind his back. The room reeked of sweat and crippling fear. He bit his tongue as the sweat on his forehead seeped into a small cut. The light hung loosely from the ceiling, burning into his reatna. Squinting at the door, he watched it for any form of life.

Merle was rounding the table, whistling lowly at Daryl’s face, twisted into a scowl and cut.

“ _ Damn, Lil’ Brother, _ ” he breathed out, raising his brows in that condescending way. “ _ Ya’ got fucked up _ .”

Daryl dryly chuckled. “Yea’.”

“ _ Hey,”  _ Merle bent down to Daryl’s height, pointing with his right hand. _ “Hey, lookit’ me, boy. Ya’ better not break, group’s waitin’ fer’ ya’ ta’ get the hell back. Don’t wanna make yer’ boyfriend mad now, huh?” _

Daryl furrowed his brows.  _ Merle didn’t have a right hand _ . Shooting his gaze up, Daryl found Merle gone.  _ He’s not real, he’s not real, none of this is real _ . Daryl gritted his teeth, trying to hold in tears.  _ He wasn’t real. None of this is real. None of this is- _

_ There _ .

The light shining underneath the door flickered with movement. Snapping out of his thoughts Daryl pulled on his tied hands, skin chafing on the rope. He grunted, reefing on them. He was scared,  _ holy shit he was scared _ . tears of frustration and fear filled his eyes. He couldn’t see through them.

“ _ Common, Lil’ Brother, common. Yea’, ‘dere ya’ go. Yer’ flippin’ ‘round like a damn fish _ ,” Merle taunted.  _ No right hand, he doesn’t have a right hand. This isn’t real, he isn’t real, none of this is real _ .

The door opened and Daryl stopped pulling on his bound wrists. A man walked in, clean cut and calm, way more calm than he should be right now. He sauntered over, sitting down in a chair with a sigh as he looked down his nose at Daryl. The man had one eye, the other being covered by a piece of gauze being held on by another line of gauze. He was bleeding through the square piece. By the way the others were acting and the way he was holding himself, this was definitely the Governor. 

“You’re Daryl, hm?” Daryl scowled. “Yeah, you know, you’ve been a  _ real  _ pain in my ass.” The Governor snapped and the kid from the woods came in. “We had to heal Daniel here, took a lot of resources.”

Daniel was holding another gun, wringing his fingers nervously in the trigger.  _ This fucker is letting people walk around with their finger on the triggers of their guns _ .

“So listen here,” The Governor slapped a hand on the table lightly, teeth glinting in the light as he had a large grin, “you tell us where your group is held up, and get us medical supplies to replace the ones you forced us to use and more,  _ and  _ work for us. We might just let you all in.”

Daryl gritted his teeth, hacking up a big loogie and spitting at the Governor. The man’s grin turned strained as he fisted his jeans.

“I’m only gonna ask ya’ once more,” the Governor gritted out, “where are ya’ held up.”

Daryl hissed, “go fuck yer’self,” and shot at the Governor, or, as far as he could with his hands tied behind his chair.

The Governor slammed his hand on the table again, harder this time. Daryl jolted back, still maintaining his hard scowl, lips curled back in a growl and teeth grating together. The Governor smiled again, chuckling lightly as he sat back down.

“Ya’ made me lose my cool there.” He laced his fingers together. “Now, we’re not going to hurt any of you, we just want more people and more supplies, win win for both of us.” Daryl wrinkled his nose, looking at the man in front of him with uncontrollable disgust. “If you _ don’t  _ tell us where y’all are, now then  _ I’ll _ have to do something.”

Daryl did what he was good at, he watched and listened. The Governor was shifting more now, clenching his hand and gritting his teeth. He was talking more often now too, stating how he won’t hurt them unless he had to, that if Daryl didn’t answer, he would be in a world of shit. It was like Shane, like Merle and Pa, all about intimidation and fear. Control. 

“Leave us,” he said to the two guards and Daniel who was still standing there. 

They left without question. Based on Glenn’s bare chest painted in black and blue, this wouldn’t go well. And yeah, it sure as hell didn’t.  _ Rick _ , was all he could think about,  _ Rick _ . Each question that wasn’t answered would lead to a punch, but that quickly devolved into no questions and just the Governor kicking and punching Daryl whenever he felt, which was a lot. Daryl held his breath with each punch, he never broke, he only let out grunts and growls. Even when his teeth grated with a punch to his jaw, even when the Governor pushed him over onto his side, chair crashing into his shoulder, he didn’t break.

_ God, I would kill for some whisky. _

After God knows how long, the Governor stopped. He left the room, but shortly came back in, untying Daryl and pushing him onto his back with his foot. Taking out a gun, he shot next to Daryl’s knee, hardly a centimeter away. Daryl forced himself not to jump, he wasn’t planning on getting shot in the knee today.

“You’re going in the ring,” the Governor said, out of breath.

His hair was wild and sweat dripped down his face as he ran a hand through his brown locks, trying to fix his look. He left shortly after.

Daryl’s face was black and blue, his torso was probably as well. He took a deep breath, trying to tell if he had any damage to his ribs or spine. He felt a twinge of pain flare up once his lungs were full, probably just a bruised rib or two. Putting a hand on his chest, he breathed slowly, hoping to calm his heart while also not hurting his ribs or pulling his bruised skin.

Daryl needs to get out.  _ Now _ .

Shooting up, he listened closely for any footsteps or shifting of clothes. Nothing. Looking around, he didn't find any cameras or radios which you know, makes sense, end of the world and all. He stepped on the chair he was sitting on’s leg, breaking it with a loud crack. Daryl paused for a second, listening for people. Hearing nothing, he looked around, finding a rusty screw poking out from the wall. Using the broken chair leg, Daryl hit the screw, listening after each hit for a few minutes at a time. Eventually, the screw broke off. 

Daryl used the screw to cut the wooden block into a spike. He shoved that into his jean’s waistband. Walking over to the side of the door, he leaned his shoulder on the wall, placing an ear against it to listen. Listen, listen, listen.

Now, he just had to wait. It’s okay, Daryl’s good at waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really know what to do if I'm being honest, so I just went, "ok, lets just catapult into the Woodbury conflict." Now we're back to suffering. :)


	23. The Ring is Not Really a Ring, Now is it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl hurty :(:(. The ring. Rick cares too much. Shane's a bitch. Michonne is quietly suspicious still. Carol's beautiful. You're Somebody Else is still the best song to appear at the end of a Walking Dead episode. And Daryl just C A N ' T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed I usually take around two days to get new parts out, idk, just really thought about it and noticed. I don't know about the future and what I'm going to be able to do, but that's what I've been doing recently and I find that interesting. I have a mental alarm clock for updates I guess.

_ Movement. _

Daryl piped up leaning closer to the wooden wall, clutching the nail in his hand. His palm was being stained by the nail’s rust. The door opened and he threw himself at the first person that walked through it, thrusting the nail into the side of his neck. It was one of the guards that was in there before. The man yelled and collapsed under Daryl’s weight. The man clawed at the nail as Daryl pulled it out, stabbing him in the throat again before he was pulled off by two other people. 

Daryl growled as he was forced to his knees. The Governor walked over to the struggling man, watching him with a scowl before shooting him. It wasn’t a mercy killing. The Governor smiled afterwards, it was small but one filled with pleasure that made Daryl shiver. 

“Daryl,” he sighed. “Daryl. Why’d you do that?” 

Daryl’s skin itched as his face was shoved into the ground, the nail being pried out of his hand. His hands were tied back behind his back again and he was pulled back up, dirt falling off of his cheek. The Governor came close to Daryl’s face, making Daryl lean away.

“The ring. Now,” he said to the two people holding Daryl down.

Daryl was pulled up and a bag was shoved over his head, it was like a burlap sack. He was pushed outside and taken down a string of halls, they were taking dizzyingly confusing turns. The four of them met a door that they paused to push open. The fires lining the streets burned bright through the sack. Daryl was brought into a room, the change in lighting his only indicator. Many people were around him, yelling cheers. 

“This is one of our new men,” the Governor started, “he’s agreed to let you all choose who he fights! So what do you want? How do you want it tonight?”

People were yelling, all of their voices swirling inside Daryl’s head in a whirlwind, the echo of the room they were in was confusing and made at pit form in his stomach. He can’t tell where anyone is.

Daryl hissed to himself,  _ he’s lying right into the faces of these people _ .

“ _ Be careful, Lil’ Brother _ ,” Merle said in his ear as the sack was pulled off of his head.

They were in a stadium almost, it was metal and the echo was horrendous. The sack was ripped off of Daryl’s head, his hands were untied but still held tightly. Daryl squinted, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.

“What should we do with him, huh?”, the Governor asked, raising his hands.

People were overwhelmingly screaming for Daryl to fight. Was he going fist fight a bear or something? Eight people came out from the doorways with eight walkers on a leash. The leashes were like those a dog catcher would use to put around a dog’s neck. The walkers were reaching out for Daryl, struggling against their holders to take a chunk out of the man. Daryl felt instinctual panic edging up his spine, he wanted to throw up.

“The people have spoken,” the Governor whispered into Daryl’s ear as he passed, nodding to the people holding the walkers.

_________________________________

  
  


“Where is he?”, Rick growled, stomping into Michonne’s personal space.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were wide and she sat down, rubbing her forehead.

“Why the  _ fuck _ did you split?”, Rick tired again. She didn’t answer again, this was grating Rick’s nerves. “Michonne, you fuckin’ split,  _ we had a plan _ ! You’re the reason why Daryl’s God knows where and now we have no clue where we are!” Rick raised his arms and let them fall, raking them through his hair and down his face.

Everyone was sitting around, Glenn’s wounds were being checked by Maggie (she had growled and hissed when others tried to help) and the others were pretending to be doing other things besides for listening to Rick yell. They were crafting bandages and quietly giving Glenn and Maggie food and water, shooting hardly hidden glances at Rick.

“I don’t know,” she interrupted Rick’s tirade. “I don’t know where he is. I said I would help you get your people back, now they’re back.”

Rick sucked in a breath, linking his fingers behind his neck. “You split and got caught, we came back for you making Daryl get caught. You’re in debt to us. We healed you and fed you, you helped us get Glenn and Maggie. Now you directly caused  _ another  _ one of us to get caught by the Governor.”

Michonne shook her head. “Never said you had to come back for me.”

Rick was about ready to pop a blood vessel. “But we did. We saved your damn life.”

Michonne nodded, saying, “yeah, sure, you did, I’ll agree. I’ll get your man and then go, good?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Michonne got up and walked over to the others leaning down to draw into the dirt with a stick all  _ kids-trying-to-plan-a-secret-mission _ style.

“Gate’s here,” she said, drawing a line. “Road’s here,” she drew another line off of the middle of the gate line. “He’ll either be in the same place as Maggie and Glenn,” she drew a box where Maggie and Glenn were before, “in the medbay, but I doubt it. Our best bet would be the stadium right here,” she drew a large rectangle at the end of the road line to represent the stadium.

“Stadium?”, Glenn asked. “We never saw that,” he said, looking over at Maggie for confirmation. Maggie nodded.

“Saw it a few times when I was looking around,” Michonne explained at Shane’s insistence. “People seemed real excited when some guys came back from a run with some walkers.”

“They came back  _ with  _ walkers?”, T-Dog asked.

“Yeah.” She tapped at the stadium box. “It’d be our best shot.”

“T-Dog,” the man in question paid attention to what Rick was saying, “you go back to the prison with Maggie and Glenn.”

Maggie was about to complain, but Rick sent her a pleading look. 

T-Dog nodded. “Got it.”

The streets were barren, fires burned in pots on the side of the road. There was a large building at the end of the road that had before been shadowed, but now, it was lit up like a Christmas tree. Rick didn’t stop to marvel at the pretty sight, choosing instead to continue. Daryl needed his help and he would be damned if he got there too late. Behind the large building there were windows. The three of them (consisting of Shane, Michonne, and Rick) pushed over nearby boxes.

People were cheering in the echoey building, watching the scene in front of them like a wrestling match. Daryl was who Rick locked onto, he was surrounded by walkers being held by people. Daryl was punching at the walker in front of him, then turning and fighting off the walker next to him. The people watching in the stands were cheering like the man in front of them wasn’t about to die.

“We can’t kill any innocent,” Rick whispered, holding out a hand to silently ask for Shane’s rifle.

Shane’s hand clutched at the rifle, narrowing his eyes. Michonne furrowed her brows at Shane. Shane looked around before giving it to Rick with a huff.

“Don’t get why we have to come back to get this fucker,” Shane grumbled.

Rick curled his lip at Shane, disgusted at what came out of his best friend's mouth. Rick was going to let that slide. . . For now. 

Daryl was now fighting the walkers as the people came one step closer. They were closing around Daryl slowly, almost like a cobra. Smaller and smaller the circle got until Daryl was being grabbed at and teeth were being gnashed right next to his ear.

Rick looked down the rifle to the notch at the end, taking aim.

  
  


_________________________________

  
  


The walker behind him was breathing down his neck, opening it’s mouth to chomp down on Daryl’s shoulder. It growled and groaned in his ear, it’s mouth getting closer and wider before it-

A shot went off and the walker’s head was punctured by a bullet. Daryl fell to the ground, keeping himself low as more shots were fired.

People were screaming, running and panicking. The Governor was sneering, looking around while trying to find the source of the shot. Daryl didn’t pay him much mind as he took the carved chair leg out from his waistband behind his back, swinging it around to bury it in the eye of a walker. Two other walkers around him dropped as two other shots were fired. The flash of a muzzle came from one of the windows.  _ It has to be Rick. _

Daryl fought off the remaining walkers before he was jumped by a person, falling to the ground. Daryl and the man wrestled, Daryl trying to drive the stake into the man’s throat as the man tried to aim his gun to Daryl’s forehead. Daryl used his left hand to drive the stake into the man’s throat, the guy gurgled as Daryl pulled it out and pushed him away. Daryl didn't want to kill him.

Daryl grabbed the man’s gun, using it to down another person running his way. Then, of course, walkers started flooding through the wide open doors of the stadium.  _ Shit _ , Daryl thought _ , won’t be able to cut through that _ .

The group had already locked onto him and were stumbling towards him quickly. Daryl stabbed the ones he could and backed away from those he couldn’t. Quickly, his back hit a wall, and he was surrounded. He thought he was going to die, oh God he thought he was going to.

_ This is it. Sorry Merle _ .

Daryl was, quite literally, staring death in the face, until it was gone. The walkers around him dropped to the ground, all shot in the back of their heads. Automatics were firing, taking down the walkers with ease. Daryl dropped to the ground with the first layer of walkers to avoid being shot. Once it was quiet, he rose slowly, finding Carol, Maggie, T-Dog, and a number of unknown people. 

Daryl’s first thought was,  _ holy shit, I could have died _ , and his second thought was,  _ all of these people saved my life _ .

Carol ran over to Daryl, throwing her arms around him as she cried, “Jesus, Pookie! You could have died!”

_ Yeah don’t I know it _ , is what he would have said, but he was scared speechless. The only last time he was shocked so bad was one time with Pa and when Ma died, and both hadn’t been for a while. Carol ran a hand through Daryl’s hair and held his head into her shoulder. Daryl stook stalk still, the shock setting into his bones.  _ I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to die _ .  _ I was going to die. He was gonna kill me, he was gonna fucking kill me _ .

Carol held on for a while until she had to step away, allowing Rick to take her spot in front of Daryl.  _ Holy shit I thought I wasn’t going to see you again. I thought I was gonna die, holy shit I was gonna die _ .

Rick held Daryl steady by his shoulders, right hand going around to rub Daryl’s shoulder blades. Rick looked over at the group around them quickly, before nodding and taking Daryl over to a stand to sit down. Daryl would be falling over in two seconds if he didn’t sit.

“You don’t look too hot,” Rick said quietly, holding Daryl’s face to look at his bruises.

Rick moved Daryl with a hand on his jaw to look at the cut on Daryl’s forehead from fighting before he got caught, his split lip and eyebrow from the Governor’s beating, his cut chin from slamming his jaw on the ground from a particularly hard hit, his swollen eye from being punched, and his puffy cheek from another hit. Daryl’s face was like if an artist went, “fuck it,” and just squeezed the paint tubes onto a canvas. 

Rick studied his eyes, trying to determine what Daryl was feeling. He found overwhelming fear; it was just as bad as it actually was. Rick got up and talked to the group before coming back and saying, “we’re going to get going now, common, let’s get you to a truck.”

“Woodbury’s gonna come?”, Daryl asked.

Rick had a tight smile, he was worried, but happy that Daryl was at least talking now. “Yeah. That’s right, isn’t it? They’re not horrible, are they?”

Daryl shook his head but immediately regretted it, the world spun.

“Common,” Rick said, holding Daryl’s arm to lead him to a car.

Daryl was still processing what happened by the time they got to the prison which was weird, right? What is there to process? He was frustrated and pissed off at himself now. Daryl didn’t need any  _ help _ , he’s not a pussy! Daryl ripped his arm away with a harsh pull when Rick tried to help steady him. Rick gave him a look and grabbed his arm, pulling it close to his chest. The look was enough to make Daryl not pull his arm away, but he did scowl all the way to a cell.

“Carol picked this out for you,” Rick explained, “you have all of your things and also a few others from her and me.”

Rick helped ease Daryl into bed and pull off his shoes, even when it was obvious Daryl wasn’t as unsteady anymore. Rick put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder and paused, he seemed to think of something before ultimately backing out, shaking his head slightly. Daryl cocked his head and Rick waved him off.

“Never-mind. Get some rest, please,” Rick asked and _fuck_ _that was the sweetest please ever said_.

Daryl mutely nodded, thinking about how if he opened his mouth all that would come out would be a squeak. Rick left and Daryl settled down with a thin blanket over him, too tired to get up and grab a thicker one.

Merle didn’t show up that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These parts are honestly better if you view them as not a singular chapter, but as a whole story. It seems to make more sense canonically and pacing wise if you think about it not by how long it took for me to get it out, but how long it's been in the story. It seems like a lot's going on in a short time, but it's actually happening days and hours apart, I could have done better to present that, though.
> 
> Also, these past few parts have so much going on holy shit.
> 
> Also, also, this is an AU divergence story, cannon will be slightly followed but it will be changed for how I want this story to go. So that being said, here's all that's changed form the cannon up to this point:
> 
> 1\. at the beginning, everyone survived the walker attack at the quarry BESIDES for Jim. Ed, Amy, and whoever the fuck else lived EXCEPT for Jim, he still got bit and left on the side of the road.
> 
> 2\. It's not specified how yet, but Merle is dead. 
> 
> 3\. Merle and Daryl survived alone, they had never met the survivors, then Merle died, then Daryl met them a few months later.
> 
> 4\. Out of Hershel's family, only himself, Maggie, and Beth made it, idk if anyone else did canonically and I'm much too lazy to go back and look.
> 
> 5\. Sophia's alive, no fucking shit.
> 
> 6\. Lori came out and told Rick she and Shane are fucking, it started before the walkers and Rick's honestly kinda okay with that, their marriage was falling apart (just like in connon) already so yeah.
> 
> 7\. Rick's bi and Daryl's gay, just. . . Yeah. That's it.
> 
> 8\. They aren't going to spend this coming winter out on the road, they're already at the prison (riveting stuff)
> 
> 9\. Daryl's backstory is a bit changed for how I view him to be in this story, most things are added and I bet a few things are taken out.
> 
> 10\. Woodbury's already fallen! It's fallen quicker than it did in cannon and less people have died. When they went to get Maggie and Glenn they didn't kill anyone. 
> 
> 11\. I swear this is it, everyone's still pretty pure, no one's really killed anyone. No one's really died so no one is desensitized nor are they depressed (they're depressed alright, but not because anyone's died)
> 
> Wowie hopefully I got everything! I'll do one of these once again a while later to go back over what's changed and what has stayed the same. I hope it helps some people to get the changes all laid out.


	24. Holy Shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Daryl woke up to a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. Shooting up blearily, Daryl reached out next to him for his knife, he always slept with it next to his hip. Once his vision cleared, he found Rick. Daryl calmed pretty quick when he saw those blue eyes peering through the dark.

“What?”, Daryl asked, rubbing his eye.

“You were having a dream,” Rick said, sitting down next to Daryl and making the mattress creak and jump. “You were yelling.”

Daryl’s face went hot. What was that dream? He knows it wasn’t good, he feels pretty shaken up and it’s not because of how he was woken up.

“Did I wake anyone?”, Daryl questioned.

Rick shook his head, saying, “no, only me. I wanted to make sure you were alright. Do you want to talk about it? It sounded pretty bad.”

“Don’t really remember it. ‘S probably ‘bout the Governor or Merle or some shit.”

“Merle’s your. . . Brother? Right?”, Rick asked.

“Yeah.” Daryl’s throat tightened, making that come out strained. He coughed, trying to clear it out.

Rick paused for a bit, seemingly trying to figure out if he should ask what he was going to ask. “Where is he?”

It seemed like a stupid question, he’s not here so of course he’s dead. It sounded more like a, “what happened to him,” than what was said, though.

“Died, like everyone else,” Daryl answered, bringing his legs to his chest. When Rick asked a hard question, it was just so easy to start talking about it. “Idiot was always high, before an’ after. Found some shit out inna’ house ‘n he thought it would be a good idea to get fucked up. Got high, then wandered out inta’ the woods, then got bit. I tried to save ‘im, cut off his arm thinkin’ it would stop it. We was pinned down by a herd, told me ta’ run. He bled out as he got bit fulla’ holes.”

Rick slowly wrapped and arm around Daryl’s shoulders, giving Daryl time to dodge if he didn’t want the contact. But  _ oh boy did he want it right now _ . A real shiver coursed through Daryl’s body, as if he was cold even if the cell was sweltering hot. His head laid on Rick’s chest, listening to his lungs and heart.

“Maybe if. . . I don’t know, maybe if I was faster or somethin’, caught ‘im before he got bit. Coulda’ maybe  _ did somethin’ _ .”

“You did do something, you made a hard decision trying to save his life. You cared and you tried,” Rick tried to reassure Daryl.

“Obviously didn’t try hard enough,” Daryl mumbled. “He told me to go, got bit up ‘n died all alone tryin’ ta’ save my ass.” Daryl shifted closer to Rick. “He told me ta’ not stop movin’, not let mahself think or I might get caught up too. I keep  _ seeing him though _ , just in the corner of mah’ eye or talkin’ to me. ‘S drivin’ me crazy.”

Rick had to think on that, but then quickly realized what Daryl was saying. Merle was afraid of Daryl mourning and getting too sad to do anything or  _ worse _ .

“Is that why you’re getting so antsy?”, Rick asked.

Daryl hummed in a yes.

“We could always do more with food and water and the ladies always need more lady things,” Rick proposed. “You keep seeing him? When?”

“Alone on the roof, with the Governor, when shits happening.”

Merle had shown up for a while with a sneer whenever Daryl was around Rick, but Rick doesn’t need to know that.

Rick nodded. “So when you’re stressed?”

“Don’t get stressed, man,” Daryl sassed.

Rick laughed, “uh-huh,  _ sure _ . So, when you’re stressed or alone, got it. Let's get you going around with people more, you can still go off and sulk, though.”

Daryl appreciates that Rick’s trying to make this pretty light. Daryl didn’t want a partner to walk around with, though. “I dunno,” Daryl said, shrugging.

“Come with me,” Rick stood up, gesturing to Daryl.

Daryl didn’t even need to ask, he just followed Rick like a dedicated little puppy. Hell yeah Merle would be disgusted right now. Daryl didn’t care, he was with Rick. They walked down the dark halls of the prison, not talking, not looking at each other, just walking. The two ended up at one of the four watchtowers, looking out at the trees. It was like on the roof, it was calming and quiet.

“Are you okay?”, Rick asked.

Daryl furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Are you really okay? You don’t have to be tough around me.”

Daryl had to think on that. No, he wasn’t fine, his face thumped and his ribs hurt, his muscles ached and his eyes burned with exhaustion. “Everythin’ hurts really. ‘S fine, I can deal with it. ‘Ve had worse.”

“I know you can. Lemme see.” Rick gestured to Daryl’s face.

“Thought ‘cha looked at my ugly mug enough already,” Daryl said as Rick held his jaw, looking at the bruises and lightly touching a few.

Rick ran his fingers over Daryl’s swollen eye, it was a gross purpley-blueish-blackish color, puffed up and sensitive. He then traveled to Daryl’s bruised cheek, then his jaw. It wasn’t like a check-up, Rick was definity caressing his battered face.

“Take off your shirt,” Rick said.

Daryl was first excited, then self-conscious, then vulnerable. He wanted to follow Rick’s command, but he was scared. Rick will think he’s weak, Rick will know he’s broken, Rick won’t like him, Rick won’t find him attractive. Rick sat quietly as Daryl’s face morphed into the embodiment of pure suffering.

“You don’t have to. I want to look at your bruises.” There was more that he wanted, it was pretty obvious. 

This was Rick, he had comforted Daryl, he had come back for Daryl. He had already saved his life four times and they had only known each other for a small while. He wouldn’t hurt Daryl, right? Daryl unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off slowly, watching Rick for any sign he would attack. Why would he attack Daryl? Who knows.

Rick’s hands skirted over Daryl’s chest and his ribs, pressing lightly and watching Daryl’s face for any pain. Daryl had goosebumps where Rick’s fingers went. This was very intimate. Daryl stood stalk still, swallowing thickly.

“You’re alive,” Rick breathed, like he didn’t believe it himself.

“Yea’. Yea’, ‘m alive.”

“I was going insane,” Rick said, “was terrified for you.”

Daryl was watching Rick’s finger as it swirled on his chest. Rick ran his fingers across Daryl’s stomach, watching as it twitched under his hand. He traced the few scars on Daryl's stomach, paying special attention to the thick one on Daryl’s left, right above his waistband. 

“You’re here though, I’m so happy.”

“Was scared fer’ ya’ too.” At this point the two of them were just airing out their fears subconsciously. “Thought I wouldn’t see ya’ ‘gain.”

“I missed you.”

Daryl nodded in a, “likewise,” way. Rick took his hands away from Daryl’s stomach and immediately Daryl was missing it. Then he was fine once Rick wrapped his arms around him,  _ so very fine _ . His rapidly cooling skin was warmed by Rick’s body, the winter air was cooler than expected. He stored away the thought that they needed to winterize these.

“I was so scared and so mad, I thought he was going to kill you,” Rick whispered.

“He was gonna. Ya’ came back fer’ me?”

“‘Course,” Rick said like it wasn’t even a question about why he came back for Daryl.

“Coulda’ died. Those kids coulda’ grown up with no dad.”

Rick nodded. “Calculated decision. Also, I couldn’t leave you behind, especially not with him.”

Daryl turned his neck to look at Rick, he was stunted, this was the first time anyone had risked their hide to save him (except for Merle but he was family, he didn’t count). Daryl didn’t really know what to say, so he just buried his face into Rick’s neck and cried. He cried so hard and so ugly. He was hiccuping and puffing out air in between sobs. Daryl clutched onto Rick’s shirt, being soothed by Rick’s hand rubbing circles into his back. He didn’t even have enough emotional room to care about his scars. Rick didn’t react at all anyways.

The two had sunk down onto the floor, Daryl leaning heavily on Rick as he rubbed Daryl’s back. He was so goddamn warm and cozy. Daryl clutched onto Rick’s shirt, grounding himself by squeezing the fabric in a tight fist. Daryl started to calm down, sinking into Rick’s shoulder as the tears dissolved into sharp intakes of breath.

“Better?”, Rick asked.

Daryl didn’t mention how that made Rick sound like he was talking to a child. “Kinda’. ‘S just. . . Sorry, everythin’’ got big alla’ the sudden.”

Rick hummed, nodding as he held onto the back of Daryl’s neck, using his thumb to rub the base of Daryl’s scull. It felt great. Nice and comforting. Then again, all of Rick is comforting, has been since the start. Daryl watched Rick as he closed his eyes, still rubbing Daryl’s neck. He looked so peaceful. 

_ Nothing will ever hurt this man ever again _ .

Rick opened his eyes again and looked down at Daryl and they had another “moment”. They watched each other and scanned each other's eyes, looking for something. For Daryl it was discomfort and,  _ hopefully _ ,  _ possibly _ , want if he was lucky. Rick was the first to move leaning in slowly to make sure Daryl had enough time to say no, like everything. Daryl didn’t object, he  _ sure as hell didn’t _ , he let Rick move right on in.

Rick’s lips were like any other human’s, but it was so much more. This is  _ Rick _ ,  _ Daryl’s getting kissed by Rick Grimes goddamnit _ ! He wanted to prance around but, you know, modesty or some bullshit. Rick gently put a hand on Daryl’s cheek (the non-bruised one just to be safe) and tilted his head slightly. It was all Daryl could have hoped for and more. Then again, a small, accidental peck on his cheek could probably send him soaring. It was over pretty quick, nothing big or magical (it was magical). There was no tongue, no awkward grabby hands, no pushing or shoving, no punching or kicking, just a quiet moment.

Rick backed away and watched Daryl closely for any sign of aggression or distress. All he found was surprise and if you could put, “wowie I’m gonna drop dead,” into an expression this would be it. Daryl’s brain hurt, so he just tucked himself back into Rick’s neck, shoving his nose into where Rick’s neck meets his shoulder.

“Are you mad?”, Rick asked.

Daryl said a muffled, “no.”

“How are you feeling?”

Was this Rick’s grand way to get Daryl to talk because  _ it’s working wonders _ .

“Blown the fuck away. I dunno. Words ain’t my strong suit.” Daryl slightly backed away from Rick’s neck to more clearly say, “this real?”

“This is real,” Rick confirmed. 

“Yer’ gonna regret this in the mornin’,” Daryl mumbled. He huddled closer to Rick and even in his exhausted state he could still be extra depressing.

“No, I’m not.”

“Ya’ are, just wait ‘n see.”

Rick shook his head. “Lemme figure that out.”

Daryl nodded and grunted and that was it, lights out. Sleep took over, thank God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro, B R O T H E R, I DID IT! OH MY GOD I DID IT! 49,100 words, 128 pages, and more than four months and they finally K I S S E D. I asked myself for a few days whether or not I should make 'em kissy kissy and I decided, "yeah, I feel like this is overdue." I hope I was right and it's not rushed, like, I hope it fits well. 
> 
> There will be more emotional parts for a bit, with the Governor stuck in there a bit. I have big plans for this story and it's really exciting!


	25. Mh-Mh-MHHHHH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wake up scene. Oh shit snow storm. It be cold. This is just mostly to move the story forward tbh. Daryl fucks up ngl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long eeeeeee-  
> I updated another story on Christmas because I hadn't uploaded on that one for eight months and I wanted to do something nice for the readers on that one. Sorry that I left this for so long though.
> 
> Merry late Christmas (or other holidays)
> 
> I'll try to get the next one up sooner I swear.

Daryl woke up slowly, which was rare. Daryl was warm too, which was worrying. Daryl shifted, tensing as he snapped his eyes open. White filled his vision, it was just Rick’s shirt, that’s fine. Everything’s okay. Rick’s right hand was wrapped around Daryl’s waist and his left hand was resting on the small of Daryl’s back. It was a nice way to wake up, being warmed by another body. Daryl watched Rick’s sleeping face for a while, it was something to do while he waited for him to wake up. Daryl knew he would regret it, the whole kissing thing, so this would be a nice time to be able to ogle at Rick’s face.

Daryl wanted to get his shirt on, a mix of his cold back and his scars. It was behind him, so he would have to crane around to get it. Him moving would probably wake Rick up though. Decisions, decisions. Lucky for Daryl, Rick woke up, eyes opening and looking down at Daryl.

  
“Morning,” he said.

Daryl swallowed thickly, “hey.”

Rick leaned in, giving Daryl a peck on his head. 

“Yeah, not regretting it.”

Daryl smiled, he honest to God let out a crooked grin at that. He was such a child. It fell though shortly after. Rick pulled Daryl closer (if possible) and buried his face into Daryl’s hair.

“You need to shower,” Rick noted into Daryl’s moderately greasy hair.

“Shut the fuck up.”

The two took their time waking up, who knows when they’ll be able to do this again? Rick instigated most of the cuddling (and everything else to be honest) and Daryl went with it. Rick’s the only one who seems to know what he’s doing in the room right now. Rick ran his fingers over the scars maring Daryl’s back.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here,” Rick said. It sounded like it meant to be reassuring, but it sounded more daunting.

“Yea’. I don’t… ‘Ve never- uh- done this before.”

Rick raised a brow, tilting his head. “What? Like, cuddling?”

“None of this. Never done a relationship, never not once.”

Rick smiled. “That’s fine, you’re doing great so far.” Daryl looked quizzical, he hasn’t done anything yet. . .? “Good thing is that in a relationship, you’re never alone in it.”

Daryl mumbled, “dunno if that’s a good thing or not.”

Rick inhaled contently and got up with a groan. “We need to get going.”

_ Noo. _

Daryl nodded and hummed, still sticking on Rick’s chest. Rick leaned back on his hands with a very amused expression, poking Daryl’s foot with his. Daryl smiled into Rick’s chest, hitting Rick’s foot with his back. Rick leaned over Daryl to retrieve Daryl’s shirt,  _ thank the god above _ , and laid it over Daryl’s back.

“Are you okay?”, Rick asked.

“Are ya’ real?”, Daryl asked back.

Rick cracked a smile. “Yeah, definitely real.”

Daryl had to forcefully peel himself off of Rick, sliding his arms through the cut arms of his flannel. Rick fixed his crumbled shirt while Daryl was messing with his hair.

“Didn’t know you’d have any vanity,” Rick laughed.

Daryl brushed his bangs down and fixed his part as he glowered at Rick, pursing his lips.

“Fuck you.”

“Didn’t know you’d be such a fucker either.”

Daryl punched Rick’s shoulder. It was such a nice moment, but of course it had to be ruined by something. Yells,  _ of course _ . Daryl felt bad that he was annoyed by someone calling for help but they ruined a really cozy moment. 

Rick and Daryl practically skidded down the stairs of the watchtower, running to the growing group of people. Daryl and Rick were in the middle of the two layers of fences along with two other young men, the group of both the group and the Woodbury survivors were in the yard, pushing against the fence. Two young men were the ones who yelled, they were stabbing through walkers who were pressing against the outer fence so hard that the fencing was cutting through their skin like cookie cutters. There was a great big bunch of them all moaning and groaning, the fence was caving in.

Daryl and Rick sprung into action. Rick grabbed a sharpened crowbar and Daryl used his knife, the two helping the young men kill the walkers until there were none left. Letting out deep breaths, the two thanked Rick who shook his head.

“Why’d you not come out with anyone else? Maggie? Shane? Glenn?”, Rick asked with a hand on his hip.

The two looked down at the ground.

“There- there was these two girls, yeah? We just wanted to get their attention,” one said quietly.

Rick shot Daryl a,  _ are-you-fucking-joking-me  _ look, mouth opened and brows furrowed. Rick rubbed his forehead with the heels of his hands.

“Don’t do that ever again, just. . . You two could have died. Next time just ask.”

The two men (they were more boys) nodded and skittered off, looking like they just dodged a bullet.  _ They did _ , Daryl thought, sheathing his knife. The audience had since vanished, going off once they realized the threat was taken care of.

“Thank you, Daryl,” Rick said.

Daryl shrugged, nodding. “Wasn’t no problem.”

Should he kiss him goodbye and get to work? Should he pat his shoulder? Should he leave it alone? Daryl shifted slightly and Rick’s smile grew. Reaching out, Rick took Daryl’s forearm, rubbing a thumb on Daryl’s wrist before leaning in, giving Daryl a kiss to the side of his mouth. Daryl’s face popped a small smile, he was trying to not look as ecstatic as he actually felt. Then it fell and he looked around quickly,  _ they were alone, right _ ?

Rick frowned but didn’t press.

“I need to work on the farm with Carl,” Rick said, gesturing to the aforementioned child and his gaggle of friends all coming out of the cell block. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Daryl furrowed his brows. “Yea’? I’ll be fine. Go work in yer’ damn garden.”

Rick laughed as he started to walk away, saying behind himself, “farm! It’s a farm, Daryl!”

It was a really nice start to a really shitty fucking day.

First, all of the new people were asking him questions. One or two good questions are understandable, “where’s the bathroom?” (even though Daryl has no fucking clue where it is, he just says, “follow the signs”) “have you seen so-and-so?” “Where are the keys?” Things like that are examples of good questions. Then you have the things that these people are asking Daryl. “What’d you do before?” “How are you today?” “Do you have any family?” (Fuck you.) “Who are you?” And, the granddaddy of them all, “what do you want to eat tonight?” Are you joking?

He’s caught a few ladies giving him heated looks just,  _ right out in the open _ . Some of them had seen that he noticed and either snapped their eyes away guiltily or just went in ever harder. One even walked up to him! Daryl practically ran away and Carol laughed at his dismay. Daryl didn’t want Rick to think he was going shopping for others, even though Rick definitely knows that Daryl’s way too shy to actually do anything even if he wanted to.

Then, Daryl was kept under a watchful eye of the ex-prisoners (they’re still here?), they were pretty buddy-buddy with the group, but Daryl had always stayed far away. The leader, Tomas, was friends, more or less, with Shane, so Daryl automatically doesn’t trust him. Axel was. . . Fine. . . Eccentric and sometimes borderline creepy to Beth but he wasn’t dangerous. Big Tiny was cowardly, but was good. He was good. Andrew was dangerously loyal to Tomas (wasn’t Daryl like that was Rick though, too?) and is also a raging coward. A dangerous, loyal, lying coward. Oscar was strong, he was great. Daryl hadn’t talked to him, but he was smart, strong, and helpful from what Daryl had seen. He doesn't trust them though, definitely not. Who knows what Shane could be feeding them.

Honestly, who  _ does  _ Daryl trust though?

Daryl was looking around a lot and thinking about Merle. He sees some people playing chess, what would Merle be doing? He sees kids playing out in the yard, what would Merle think? He thinks about Rick ninety percent of the time, what would Merle say? Daryl’s been thinking about Merle the other ten percent of the time. Ever since his admission to Rick (aka only a few hours ago), Daryl hasn’t seen Merle. That was good, right?

A cuttingly cold breeze blew past him and a small snowflake fluttered down onto his nose, effectively making him forget his thoughts. It was childish, to be excited by the first snow, but he was. Daryl looked up and in the distance saw dark clouds and a flurry of white. He then was worried, it sure as hell was a snow storm, and it was heading right their way. Rick was off in the yard chatting with Carl and his posse of buddies about (based on his gesturing hands) the garden (or the plants, either or). Daryl walked over to Carol who was chatting with others.

“Oh Daryl,” she greeted. “Where have you been?”

“Around,” Daryl answered. “Look.” He pointed up at the sky, the rolling clouds had gotten closer.

“Wow. Does Rick know? Or Glenn and Maggie.” Daryl shrugged and Carol nodded, turning to the small group she was talking to. “Common, let's get everything inside. Daryl, you let everyone else know.”

Daryl was so proud of Carol, she has come so far even with Ed still breathing down her neck. Carol acted a lot like Daryl did with his father. It’s. . . Worrying. Daryl gave Carol one more once over and nodded, walking to go get Glenn and Maggie. They were in a watchtower and- uh-oh. Daryl went up the stairs as quiet as he could and heard nothing, then he peeked over the cement half wall to look into the slowly darkening room. Glenn and Maggie were curled up in a little blanket nest; it looked sweet.

Daryl took care in waking the two up, fist Maggie and then Glenn. Both of their cheeks lit up when Daryl nodded his head at their clothes laying on the ground. He gave them privacy as they got dressed, even if privacy is a luxury of the old world.

“Gotta go inside,” Daryl said, pointing up at the clouds and the snow raining down. It was getting so close.

“Holy shit,” Glenn breathed.

“What, never seen some snow?”, Maggie asked, punching his shoulder as she went back inside to retrieve their blankets to wrap around each other.

Daryl nodded, looking away slightly. Glenn’s face was still red, they definitely were doing some stuff before he came in. Maggie looked at Daryl before smiling.

“Are you shy, Dary?”

Daryl ran away for the tenth time today.

Carol was ordering people around and Daryl got another bout of proudness. She was telling people to put away tables (it was nearly winter, why did they put tables outside?) and to bring inside the plates and other smaller utensils. Rick and Carl with Carl’s buddies were starting to notice everyone bringing things and they walked up the overgrown, gravel path.

“Daryl, what’s going on?”

_ Shit, I didn’t tell Rick. Stupid, stupid, stupid! _

“Sorry,” Daryl rushed out. “I had ta’ tell Carol, then she asked me ta’ let Maggie n’ Glenn know. I was gonna tell ya’.”

“Daryl, it’s fine. Why is everyone taking everything in?” Rick put his hand on Daryl’s forearm, rubbing his wrist softly.

Daryl was confused, why is Rick rubbing his wrist? Rick cocked his head at Daryl’s confused expression and let go of Daryl’s forearm.

“Uh- snowstorm, right there,” Daryl explained, pointing at the clouds. They were almost close enough to be snowed on.

“How did we not see that?”, Rick asked, scratching his head. Rick turned to Carl, saying, “hey, Bud, go on inside.”

Carl grinned. “No work?”

Rick smiled back. “Yeah now go on.”

Carl and his group skittered inside, all chatting and giggling. Is that how kids act? Normal kids? They look so happy.

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable,” Rick said.

Daryl snapped his head to Rick. “What?”

“When I held your arm, I made you uncomfortable, right?”

Daryl furrowed his brows. “Why would I be uncomfortable?”

“Well, we were in front of Carl and his friends,” Rick said, biting the inside of his lip.

“Naw, wasn’t uncomfortable. It was fine.”

Rick hummed, nodding. He just accepted that answer? He didn’t want to know why he made that face? Huh.

“Wanna go inside, now?”, Rick asked.

Daryl nodded. “Food sounds pretty good right now, not gonna lie.”

Rick smiled, “yeah.” 

Snow started to fall around them and,  _ wow, this was magical _ . It was like all of those movies Mom had watched. She always wanted something so romantic, so she filled herself with romantic movie after romantic movie. 

“Thanks,” Daryl said.

Rick cocked his head. “For what?”

“Jus’. . . Everythin’. Don’t gotta, but cha’ do.”

Rick tentatively placed his hand back on Daryl’s forearm. 

“‘Course. Comon, it’s getting cold and wet. I don’t want you to get sick,” Rick said, but also added in, “I’ll always be there for you.”

_ Holy shit is this real _ ?

Daryl looked around before snapping his gaze between Rick’s eyes and his lips, pursing his own lips. Rick slowly grew a grin, he knew what Daryl wanted and he would make Daryl ask. Daryl narrowed his eyes and huffed.

“You don’t have to ask,” Rick said.

“Don’t I?”

“No, kiss me whenever you want. I don’t care.”

Daryl bit his tongue, gently placing his hands on Rick’s shoulders. Jesus, Rick was so confident when he kissed Daryl, now Daryl was here, sweating and shaking. Rick decided that Daryl was suffering a  _ bit too much _ and alleviated him. 

God it was so romantic. It made Daryl sick but like it was heartwarming. But it made him sick. But it was great. So great. Crazily great because  _ he’s kissing Rick Grimes holy shit _ ! It’s still so novel and it probably always will be.

Daryl wasn’t really doing much. He didn’t move at all, he didn’t close his eyes, he just kind of. . .  _ stood there _ . It was really good though. Rick pulled back and Daryl breathed. Rick looked almost conflicted, like he knows Daryl liked the kiss but was confused about Daryl’s lack of participation. Just- how do you kiss?

“Lets-”, there was a pause,”let's go on in.”

“Uh. Yea’, ‘lright.”

  
_ Ugh, what the fuck did I just do _ ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Daryl suffers, he will always suffer.


	26. How Tf???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Carol!” Carol turned to look at Daryl with a brow raised. “How tf do you kiss?”

“Carol!”

“Pookie?” Carol questioned. She was working on cooking food with a few of the resident Woodbury people assisting.

“I fucked everythin’ up.”

“You’re just being dramatic,” Carol said while stirring a pot of who knows what. “What happened?”

“Naw, ‘m not.” Daryl crossed his arms before deflating. No one was looking but they were definitely close enough to hear him. . .

_ Fuck it. _

“Rick. I fuck up everythin’ with Rick,” Daryl answered.

Carol paused. “How’d you do that?”

Daryl hardly took a breath. “Rick ‘n me, we’ve been- uh. Just since last night- I don’t know- Jesus fuck!” Words, goddamn  _ words _ .

Carol sighed and placed her spoon down. She turned to another resident. “Nina, can you be a sweetheart and stir this for me? Just a few seconds at a time. I have boy drama to deal with.” Carol thrusted a thumb at Daryl.

Nina nodded, smiling.

“Come,” Carol commanded, grabbing Daryl’s wrist as she passed. They went to her cell because of course they did. It was like the spot for emotional talks. “So, what happened? Tell me the whole story from last night to right now.”

“Me ‘n Rick, we’re- I dunno what ya’d call it. We’re close I guess? Don’t have a name fer’ it yet. Slept out in the watchtower last night, ‘s why we didn’t come inside. I woke up, nice mornin’ ‘n all, real romantic ‘n shit ‘til those two guys started screamin’. Helped them ‘cause ‘course Rick did ‘n I just followed. Rick worked on the garden ‘n I avoided everyone. We kissed last night ‘n all, so’s it wasn’t new or anythin’.” Carol placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder once he took a breath. “We kissed ‘gain ‘n it made me realize that  _ I have no fuckin’ clue what ‘m doin’ _ .”

Carol took a second to let that sink into her brain before nodding. “That’s good.”

Daryl was flabbergasted. “ _ Good _ ? Carol, I didn’t do anythin’, I didn’t move, didn’t do shit. Just probably felt like he was kissin’ a goddamn board. He looked real disappointed.” Daryl buried his face in his hands.

“I highly doubt he was disappointed,” Carol said, rubbing between Daryl’s shoulder blades. “I think he thought you didn’t like it.”

“Huh?” Daryl’s head popped up. “What?”

“You didn’t do anything, right? He probably thought he overstepped a boundary or something. I don’t think you could do anything that would make him disappointed.”

“I could do a whole lot,” Daryl said.

Carol shook her head. “No, he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars. It’s taken you long enough to get your head out of your ass and realize that. Both of you,” Carol countered. “Everyone's noticed, I bet even Carl has. Sohpia’s even asked me questions. Shane might not like it, but I don’t think anything can stop Rick besides for you.”

“Jesus, he shouldn’t have ta’ sacrifice everythin’ fer’ me.”

Carol raised a brow again. “Are you joking me? He’s not losing anything and he knows it. Shane hasn’t been his friend for a long time from what I’ve heard and Lori hasn’t been his wife either. Also, Lori likes you, she really does. She’s noticed too, Daryl, she _ gosps with us _ . She wants you two to be happy, especially Rick.”

That made Daryl at least feel better about that side of things. A _ bit _ . “I don’t know how to kiss,” Daryl admitted.

“There’s no right way,” Carol said.

“Naw, naw there is.” Daryl raked a hand through his hair. “I have no clue ‘bout what I’m doin’ or what this even is.”

“That’s fine. You need communication in a relationship. Go and tell Rick you need help. Tell him all of your worries; trust is extremely important. Let yourself be vulnerable.”

“What a wonderful wingman ya’ are,” Daryl deadpanned.

“I know, right?”

“Wasn’t a compliment,” Daryl snarked, getting up off of the uncomfortable cot and stretching. “Ya’ gonna use any of this for yer’ “gosp”?”

Carol scoffed. “No. Think of this like a therapy session, anything said in this room doesn’t leave it. Patient confidentiality. Well, I will be using you two indeed being together though if you’re okay with it.”

Daryl paused. “I dunno if I am or if Rick is. I’ll. . . Ask.”

Carol grinned and nodded, getting up as well. “Go now, I need to get back to cooking for everyone because  _ you  _ heathens can’t cook worth a damn.”

Daryl felt insulted. “Yes I can.”

“No, you can’t.”

“How the hell do ya’ think I survived up on the roof then?”

Carol narrowed her eyes at him. “Fair enough.”

Rick was across the way once they stepped out. Carol nudged (more like  _ stabbed _ ) Daryl and Daryl hissed at her. She just smiled encouragingly and walked away.

“Daryl,” Rick called. He looked tense as well.

“Mhm?”, Daryl questioned, biting his thumb.

“Come in,” Rick said, gesturing to his cell.

_ Ooh doggy _ .

Daryl nodded, his feet felt like cement blocks as he waddled over, arms pinned to his side. He felt like a penguin. The cell was cold and Daryl shivered both from the chill and the anxiety.  _ Did I already fuck everything up? Is Rick done with me already? Am I too much _ ?

“I’m sorry, I overstepped,” Rick said.

“Rick-”

“No, you don’t have to do everything I want, you  _ never ever  _ have to. I want you to be happy, I don’t want to force you to do anything ever again-”

“Ya’ didn’t force me ya’ stupid fuck.” That made Rick snap his mouth shut with an audible clank. “I. . . I don’t know how to kiss,” Daryl admitted, looking towards the door like he was ready to bolt.

“You don’t. . .?”

“Yea’.”

It was quiet for a bit. Daryl didn’t look at Rick for fear of disgust.

“So when you said. . . You really meant it?”, Rick asked.

“Why the fuck would I have said it if I was jokin’?”

Rick strugged. “I dunno. I mean, no kissing at  _ all _ ? No little smooches when you were a kid at school or something?”

Daryl shook his head. “Never really saw kissin’ so’s I didn’t really know it existed outside’a movies. Wasn’t around other kids at all either, stayed far away from everyone.”

Rick looked so depressed at that, like Daryl not having a childhood physically pained him.

“Did you never have friends? Like, none at all?”

Rick saying, “at all,” was starting to get on Daryl’s nerves.

“No, I didn’t, ‘lright? I didn’t have no childhood, didn’t have a Ma or a Pa, never had friends, never kissed nobody, never been loved! Didn’t get no white picket fence or no clean house, floor was always covered in spilled beer ‘n cig butts! Didn’t have no room, no PC, no phone, didn’t have a Ma that cooked every night for me or a Pa that went to work, I never got  _ shit _ ! Had to do alla’ that shit fer’ mah’self!” Daryl stood up in his rage, anger and resentment coursed through him. “Ma didn’t give a damn, Pa woulda’ rather dumped me on the sidea’ the fuckin’  _ road  _ before he supported me or Merle!”

Rick wrapped Daryl in a hug and they sat quiet for a good few moments. Daryl was crying,  _ why was he crying, men don’t cry, Dixons don’t cry, why is he  _ **_crying,_ ** _ it wont stop, it wont stop, why isn’t it fucking stopping _ ? Daryl shook and shook and shook. Ugly crying. Daryl can now confidently say he was a very ugly cryer. He snotted all over, shook and took deep, sharp breaths when he could, pawing at Rick’s shoulder for something to ground himself.

“It’s okay,” Rick hushed Daryl. “It’s alright. You’re okay. You’re not there anymore, you’re here with me.”

Daryl shook, holding Rick in a vice grip.

“It hurt, it hurt so fuckin’ much,” Daryl cried.

He growled at himself, pulling at his hair. Rick took Daryl’s hands, holding them together. Daryl’s head ached, and he cried. He cried for so long before his breaths finally weaned off into hiccups. Rick was still soothing him, rubbing Daryl’s knuckles with his thumb and speaking in a soft voice. It was. . . Good. Daryl felt good. 

Daryl sniffed and Rick seemed to take that as an okay to talk.

“Do you want to talk about that?”, Rick asked.

Daryl shrugged, sniffing. “I had a shit Daddy. Nothin’ more.”

Rick nodded and breathed slowly, his breath sounds strained.

“Rick?” Daryl looked up at Rick’s face and- oh.  _ Oh _ . Rick’s eyes were watering.

“‘M sorry,” Rick apologized, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “You probably don’t want to see this.”

Daryl sat up straighter, he was determined to comfort Rick. He’s never done it before, comforting another person, and he never had people comfort him that much. Sometimes Merle would when he was younger, but he stopped when Daryl was around four. Daryl wrapped his arm around Rick’s neck and his other around Rick’s torso. It was like Daryl was a sloth or something. Rick wasn’t as much of an ugly cryer as Daryl was. He was really quiet actually, only sniffing occasionally and breathing deeply.

Daryl shifted slightly, he wasn’t as sure about his actions as Rick seemed to be. Daryl’s hand rubbing at Rick’s back was jerky and felt like he was pressing too hard then too soft and then too hard again. Rick did calm down, it was quick (unlike Daryl’s). Rick looked better, not so tense. There was so much more crying than Daryl was used to. Then again, Daryl was used to no crying. 

Rick was trying to keep his cool and not cry again, taking deep breaths and holding Daryl’s shirt. It was like they were both clutching each other, but no, they’re men, men don’t. . . Hug. But they cuddled not five hours ago when they woke up. Oh shit.

“Sorry,” Rick said.

Daryl hummed questioningly.

“I didn’t mean to start crying on you.”

Daryl looked Rick directly in the face with his brows furrowed. “Are ya’ fuckin’ jokin’ me, man?”

Rick blinked. “No?”

“‘Ve cried all over ya’ ‘bout ten-thousand times ‘n  _ yer’ apologizin’ _ ?”, Daryl asked, almost amazed.

Rick laughed, shaking his head, “it’s only been about five-thousand but you were close.”

_ Shit that was cute _ .

“You don’t have to apologize, this is what a relationship is: trust. I see you at your worst and you see me at mine. I won’t leave you just because you’ve cried. Honestly, it makes me want to stay more.”

“What? Seein’ me all red ‘n snotin’ is makin’ ya’ wanna be ‘round me  _ more _ ?”

“It’s not that you're crying,” Rick laughed. “It’s that you’re crying with  _ me _ . I trust you, you trust me, right?”

“Ya’ trust me?”

“Of course,” Rick said like it was obvious. 

Fuck men not hugging. They hugged for a few minutes in silence before Daryl broke it.

“Carol knows we’re. . . Whatever this is. She wants gossip or some shit. Wants to know if she can talk ‘bout it,” Daryl mumbled in Rick’s chest.

Rick chuckled. “Of course she does. I really don’t mind. You do what you feel comfortable with.”

Daryl pinched Rick’s forearm and got up from the bed. “Common, gotta eat.”

“Do you know what Carol and the others are making?”

Ugh, one of the dumb questions but Rick’s the exeption. “Dunno. I don’t really care.” Daryl shrugged.

“I want to get to know you,” Rick determined as he adjusted his shirt. It was a little bit rumpled.

“Yer’ kissin’ me an’ ya’ don’t know me? Wasn’t knowin’ my hobbies enough?”

Rick chuckled, saying, “yeah, totally. Gimme something small.”

“Somethin' small?”

“Favorite food? Grossest thing you’ve done?”

The two of them were walking down to the floor now, no one was around. 

“Don’t got a favorite food, I’ll take anythin’ I can get. Done a lotta gross things.”

“Example?”

“Stuck my tongue in a random hole once.”

Rick cocked his head.

“It was gooey.”

Rick looked disgusted. “What?”

“Yea’. No fuckin’ clue what it was. Sure as hell didn’t taste good.”

They were now walking down the dark hall. Daryl’s never been down here before, then again, he hasn’t really explored the prison that much. They made it down the hall and to a rusty door, which Rick opened. Huh, they made the large middle building into a mess hall. That’s where everyone took the tables and things. Carol was stirring her pot again and waved Daryl and Rick over.

“Hey, Lovebirds,” she called  _ moderately quietly _ . Daryl shushed her and she nodded with a wink. “Sorry, we only have more soup. Soup, soup, soup, that’s all we’re eating. Pookie, would you be a darling and hand me those spices?”

“First question, where ‘n when did y’all get spices? Second question, who gives a shit?”

Carol laughed as Daryl handed her a little plastic tray with spices in it after a little bit of searching.

Even being in a relationship, Daryl and Rick were moderately the same. Daryl still leaned against the wall in the shadows as he ate and Rick sat next to Shane, Lori, and Carl. Rick was bouncing his leg more than normal though, and kept smiling at Daryl when he got the chance. What an idiot. A very cute, sweet idiot.

When Rick came over and they leaned against the wall together, Daryl got a rush of pride as he saw Shane grumbling and growling at them. He then got up and told Rick he needed to do rounds by the fence and then it wasn’t as fun. Rick, being the  _ idiot  _ he is, just smiled and agreed to come with. Either he doesn’t know that Shane is jealous or mad or whatever his deal is or he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Shane first fucked Rick’s wife and he’s now so unhappy that Rick is happy. From what Rick’s said, that’s not how friends act.

“Shane will get over himself,” Lori said from next to Daryl.

Daryl whipped his head over (ignoring the ache his brain gave him) and looked at Lori with surprise.  _ What _ ?

“Shane being jealous, he’ll find out that Rick’s happy and he’ll be fine.” 

Daryl scoffed. “Don’t think anythin’ll get through that thick fuckin’ skull of his.”

Lori laughed. She had a scarf over her chest and she peaked beneath it, before pulling the baby out from under the washed out red fabric. 

_ Oh, oh _ .

Daryl looked away quickly as Lori adjusted her clothing. She chuckled at him.

She handed Daryl the baby and he immediately started cooing quietly.

“Hi, ya’ little shit,” Daryl cooed.

She looked gorgeous with her chubby little face. All babies looked the same, but now Daryl understands why people call babies cute because  _ just look at her _ !

“If her first word is a swear, I know who to blame,” Rick said.

Daryl didn’t get surprised this time, he could hear Rick from a mile away.

Daryl scoffed. “She’s too young for me to censor mah’self yet.”

Rick rolled his eyes, if he rolled them any harder they would get stuck in his head. “Sure. Carl named her.” At Daryl’s look, he continued, “Judith.”

Lori had a bright smile. Very motherly.

“Baby Judi,” Daryl said.

Why was Daryl so in love with that? It seemed perfect.

Singing came from one of the tables and people gathered. Beth was singing. Judith really liked it, she started cooing and giggling. Even with Shane glowering at Daryl, this was still a really great moment, just quiet and serene.

That all ended when a slew of gunshots rang out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a bad mood ngl. Depression is kicking my ass and it feels like nothing is going right.
> 
> I have other things to work on, school is a big one and Covid was/is making it really hard to acclimate to school, I'm behind and it feels like I'm failing and it's just a lot. I want to write this, I really, really do, if I could write this and do nothing else, I would. But you know, life and shit. I can't tell the future, so I just wanted to apologize in advance if it takes me a bit longer to get the next part out, I'll try to write when I can, but I might not be able to. Worst time for this to happen too because I put in a cliffhanger oooof-
> 
> Personally, I don't like cliffhangers as both a writer and reader, but this was already 2,000 words long so it felt right for what I have coming.


	27. Fuck.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THERE'S A SCARY MAN IN OUR BASEMENT NOW HELP-

Everyone rushed out, some without any form of weapon. Daryl handed Judith to Lori and held the two behind him with a hand out. The Governor stood on the outside of the fence, looking maniacal. There was a young woman in his hands, being held in a choke-hold with a dark gun being held to her head. She was crying, whimpering, looking terrified. Rick looked downright murderous. Daryl was on edge, he was scared. He was scared of the Governor.

Daryl wanted to shoot the Governor with a bolt, but not in his head or through his heart, he wanted him to bleed out slowly. Daryl held his crossbow steady, any sign from Rick to shoot, he would shoot. Rick held a hand out to the Governor and to Daryl. 

Step one: listen to Rick. Daryl slightly lowered his bow, aiming at the Governor’s knee.

Step two: wait.

“Governor,” Rick said, holding his hands out still. “Let go of the girl.”

Daryl wasn’t going to point out how they don’t know if the girl is with him and pretending or isn’t. Rick was smart, he’d get them through this. The Governor scoffed, nudging the gun into the girls head. She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. Daryl was two seconds away from shooting the Governor, but Rick thrusted his hand at Daryl again, giving him a pleading look. 

_ Give me a second to try and talk to him _ , Rick’s look said.

_ Fine _ , Daryl nodded back and gave him a flash of a smile.

“You want me, right?”

The Governor sneered. “I want you, Michonne, and Daryl there,” the Governor growled out.

Daryl got into a defencive position, close to the ground, arms close to his sides. Daryl’s muscles were tense, ready to strike whenever Rick said. Rick shook his hand again and Daryl’s leg shook,  _ he was so angry _ . _ No one will ever take Rick away, Daryl’s just found happiness, he doesn’t want to be alone, no, no, no, no, never again, never again _ .

“Don’t do this, let the girl go,” Rick said, voice growing both firmer and more worried.

“Now Rick,” the Governor said, eyes growing wide. Why hadn’t he been killed yet? Why was no one shooting him dead? Why wasn’t Daryl?  _ Because Rick said not to _ , his brain helpfully provided. “You ain’t gonna tell me shit.”

Rick’s attempts to calm the situation are futile and seem to just be getting the Governor more and more riled up. Or is it excited? The grin the crazy man was wearing and his wide eyes proved the latter. The girl being held was crying, big fat tears running down her cheeks. Rick was still trying his best to convince the Governor to let the lady go. Daryl should have reacted faster, he saw the Governor pull his gun away from the woman and aim at Dale.

The Governor threw the girl down and shot Dale, the bullet going through Dale’s throat. Dale gagged on it before dying. He then took aim on T-Dog and shot him through the man’s wrist and his chest. It looked like it pierced a lung. Daryl tried to dodge, but the bullet clipped through his side. Daryl shot nearly at the same time, driving a bolt through the Governor’s thigh. It was silent before the screaming started. Andrea and Amy were crying over Dale and Glenn was almost cradling T-Dog’s head with Maggie holding his shoulder mournfully. Carol bolted over to Daryl laying on the ground and Rick followed quickly.

“Daryl, Daryl please,” Rick cried. He held Daryl’s head with one hand and Daryl’s hand with his other. Under any other normal circumstance, Daryl would have scoffed and said some snarky comment about not being a baby, but right now, he really needed to touch Rick. “Daryl, please don’t leave me.”

Daryl made a strange sound: a mix between a whimper and a whine as Carol pulled his shirt up to look at the wound. She felt around Daryl’s back and breathed harshly.

“There’s not exist. It’s still in there,” she said.

“Daryl,” Rick said. He was sniffling. 

_ No, no, no, no, don’t cry. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’m not going to leave you _ . Daryl hopes his thoughts showed in his pain filled expression. It seemed like it did pretty well because Rick weakly smiled. It looked like a, ‘thanks for your effort.’

“Common, we have to get him on an operating table,” Carol said to Rick who nodded, determined. “This is gonna hurt like hell, alright, Pookie?”

Daryl hummed and nodded and  _ holy shit _ . His hands got clammy and his head swam. If Daryl was a lesser man, he would have cried out. No, he didn’t yelp or whimper, he passed the fuck out.

  
  
  


When Daryl woke up he felt like he was going to throw up. Nausea coursed through him and he looked around with bleary eyes. He tried to get up, but a pain in his side made him pause and make a choked off, pained sound. Pulling the light sheet that laid crumpled around his abdomen, Daryl was met with a whole lot of white. It took him a second to realize that it was gauze wrapped tightly around his stomach. Where was he? What happened? What time is it? His head hurts.

A man walked in with a saline bag in hand, but quickly set it down to check Daryl. Daryl was too confused to push the man’s hands away from assaulting his face as the man checked his pupils and his heartbeat. Daryl’s head cleared up enough for him to weakly push the man’s hand away from his stomach eventually. When did he get so weak? Who was this man?

Hershel walked in. The man was still trying to get to Daryl’s stomach. Why? Daryl lowly growled at him and shoved his hands away. 

“Son,” Hershel’s smooth voice cut through the hot air.

_ Not anyone’s son, least of all your’s _ .

“Please, let Dr. Subramanian look at your wound,” Hershel said while poking around the room for a clean rag.

“Dr. S is enough,” the man chuckled.

Daryl got another bout of pain and winced, placing a hand on his side. What happened? Hershel handed Dr. S a rag and looked at Daryl with a soft but stern expression.

“You stay awake, son. I’m going to get Rick and Carol. Let Dr. Subramanian look at that wound.”

And Hershel was gone, leaving Daryl with this stranger. Daryl hadn’t seen him ever, but then again, Daryl’s attention has been solely on Rick and Carol for the past forever so it isn’t that crazy to think that this very normal looking man just slipped from his mind.

Dr. S wrung his fingers for a second before snapping out of whatever he was thinking about and reached for Daryl’s stomach. Daryl, of course, nearly punched him. The doctor jumped back before Daryl’s fist could meet his cheek. Daryl was like a. . . What’s the right word. . . Wild animal? Daryl hid his wounded side behind his arm, holding the other out to defend himself. Who is this man? Where is he? What happened? Where’s Rick? He wants Rick.

_ Ow _ . Daryl wheezed, his side pulled uncomfortably as he wristed away from the doctor’s hands. Daryl let out a feral hiss as Rick and Carol magically appeared in the doorway. Everything hurt, quiet literally.

“Daryl,” Rick sounded so relieved. Why was he relieved? What happened?

Rick wrapped Daryl in a tight hug (noticeably staying away from his dressings) and if hugs could heal then Daryl would be on his feet right now. It was hard and slow with his aching muscles and rolling stomach, but he reached around Rick and hugged him back. Hmm, this felt weird. It’s not like this is the first hug they’ve had (no  _ duh _ ), but it still feels so weird. Like a good weird. There’s no other way to explain it; just. . .  _ weird _ . It feels right.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up,” Rick said, squeezing Daryl.

Daryl hummed and furrowed his brows. “How long ‘ave I. . .?”, he asked. 

His throat hurt like a motherfucker. It felt like #60 grit sandpaper. It felt horrible. He swears up and down that his throat is bleeding. Carol, being a savior, gave him water which he guzzled, nearly choking before Rick told him to slow down.

“It’s been about two days,” Hershel said from the doorway.

Daryl felt a pull in his arm as he tried to drink again, now feeling his limbs better. There was a needle connected to an IV being held in with tape sitting in his arm. He pulled it out and winced, it hurt. He ripped off the tape and  _ owie _ . Rick took the tape and the IV needle and handed them to Hershel.

What happened? He vaguely remembers screaming and crying. He remembers gunshots and pain exploding. His side ached.

“Daryl,” Rick said, he looked concerned. Daryl jolted. 

_ No, don’t be worried. Please don’t _ .

Rick placed a hand on his shoulder, dipping his head down to meet Daryl’s eyes. “Can we look at your wound?” Rick pointed at Daryl’s wrapped side.

_ Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick, it’s okay, Rick’s here _ .

Daryl let Rick unwrap the gauze. Daryl was leaning on one arm, side stretched out. There was another square of gauze underneath, it was soaked in blood. Dr. S stepped forward to help but Daryl whipping his head over and Rick giving him a look full of warning. The doctor backed away quickly. The wound was agitated, swollen and red, blood slowly trickled down Daryl’s side. Rick wiped it up with a sympathetic grimace. Or did it physically pain him?

Where is he? What happened? Why does everything hurt? Where’s Merle? Where's Pa? Is he coming? Daryl can hear him.

“Those are beautiful stitches,” Hershel said to Dr. S.

The aforementioned man smiled gratefully, nodding.  _ This guy was the one who stitched me _ . Daryl felt thinkful, but was still definitely skittish. He wasn’t going to let this  _ doctor _ touch him again. He wasn’t going to be that open ever again. Never to anyone. 

Daryl can hear him. He can  _ smell  _ him.

“Daryl,” Rick complained, “hold still.”

Daryl stopped shifting while Rick cleaned the wound. There was no exit wound, so this would be a simple wound to heal. What happened? Where is he? He needs to get up. Now, now, now. Why? Why does he have to get up? He doesn’t even know himself. Where is he? Daryl tried to get up, using his arms to haul himself into a pained, half-falling over sit. Rick tried to stop him, arms flying up to support Daryl.

“Wait, you’re hurt, don’t do that. Lay back down,” Rick said, pushing Daryl back by his shoulders.

Daryl shook his head so hard that his body followed. “No, I gotta- ‘s not safe. I can hear ‘im. We gotta- We have ta’ get out- we can’t-”, Daryl stuttered. 

Hershel took Dr. S out of the room while Rick held Daryl’s shoulder, soon enough switching to hold his hands.

“Daryl- hey, hey, Daryl. It’s okay, we’re safe,” Rick soothed.  _ We’re not safe, we’re never safe, it’s my fault, where am I, where am I, I can hear him, we’re not safe, he’s getting closer, I can smell him _ . “The Governor’s locked away, the perimeters being watched, everyone’s safe now.”

“What happened? Rick, what happened? Where am I? I can hear him; he’s coming,” Daryl said quickly, suffocating. 

It’s so hot. What’s on him? He kicked whatever was pressing his chest down. It felt like a truck was parked on top of him. He’s been shot again, holy shit he’s been shot again. He’s back on the side of the road, outside in the rain, crying and whimpering as his leg bled. One of Merle’s shit friends had shot him, missed Merle in his drunken/ high haze and shot Daryl through his calf. No doctor for him, though. Merle half fixed him up, he was very drunk as well. 

Daryl smells Pa, he can hear his heavy, limping footsteps getting closer. Heart beating quickly, hands sweaty, knees weak, shaking, he’s  _ scared _ . Daryl’s fucking terrified. Rick was asking something, Daryl can’t understand. Then, Rick put his hands on Daryl’s face, covering his ears. He couldn’t hear Pa, he couldn’t smell him. All he could hear was Rick’s heartbeat through his hands.

“Breath,” Rick instructed, demonstrating by breathing in slowly, holding it, then breathing out, “like that.”

Daryl decided he liked Rick’s heartbeat and he wanted to get closer. Leaning in, he placed an ear over Rick’s chest, listening to his heart and his breathing. It was nice. A constant source of sound to know that Rick was there and Daryl wasn’t alone. Rick said they’re safe, he said they’re safe, he said they’re safe. Pa wasn’t here, he’s okay. Where is he?

“Hey, focus on me,” Rick said, holding Daryl’s shoulder, like he was trying to guard Daryl from anyone and everything. “You’re okay. You’re at the prison in the med bay.”

Daryl slightly shifted (Rick glared lightly at him) so he could speak clearer. “What happened?”

“You were shot,” Rick answered. “Dale and T-Dog we’re shot and then you shot and the Governor shot you. I think the quiet afterwards made it worse. Carol and I ran over to you. You didn’t say anything, you just looked at me and I-” Rick took a breath. “I thought you weren’t going to make it, especially when Carol said the bullet was still inside. Then you passed out- I expect from pain- and we hurried you into here. Caleb, Hershel, and Carol took you in. You woke up while they got the bullet out, thank God it was whole. Do you not remember?”

Daryl shook his head.

“You seemed pretty wide awake. I wasn’t allowed in the room while they operated on you, Lori, Carl, and Shane stayed with me. We could hear you loud and clear. I wanted to just run in there and make them stop, it was horrible.”

Daryl laid a hand on Rick’s to give him comfort, it worked and Rick took his hand again, holding it tight.

“I was so worried. I didn’t want you to leave me, not after I just got you.”

Daryl was very touched. If he wasn’t in constant pain he would probably be blushing. “Didn’t get why ya’ was cryin’ at first. Don’t think I knew I got shot fer’ a bit,” Daryl said.

“I know, and that hurt too. Everything hurt. They had to practically drag me out of here every day to eat. I don’t remember much, just small snippets of people telling me to eat. You know, Carol’s a mother hen.”

Daryl laughed but had to stop when his side complained. “Don’t I know. Ya’ don’t gonna mother hen me, nobody gotta. ‘Ve been shot ‘fore, know what I’m doin’.”

Rick looked very depressed at that, rubbing Daryl’s knuckles with his thumb. Daryl shrugged and scooted back over so his ear was directly over Rick’s heart to hear maximum heartbeat. It wasn’t anything, just Daryl telling Rick that he would be okay. It seemed to not calm Rick, but actually seemed to make Rick even sadder.

Rick didn’t have to say, ‘I love you,’ Rick just had to look at Daryl and he got the message as clear as crystal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh so yeah. Buh-bye Dale and T-Dog, you'll be missed idk.
> 
> Sorry for the cliffhanger and then the wait! I mean, five days to do this amount of damage is pretty good. I felt like it was needed to have some people die, because the only ones to die so far (on screen/writing) is Jacqui and she wasn't that integral to the story. Honestly, the only things integral to the story is Rick, Daryl, Carol, Shane (eventually. . .), and the fact that there is a literal zombie apocalypse going on outside their front door 24/7.
> 
> I also felt like it was time to fill the void of Daryl not having a wound in his side so here.  
> Yes, it's in the same spot as when Daryl was looking for Sophi and got a bolt to the side but unlike the cannon story, it was a gunshot and it didn't go all the way through.
> 
> Edited 1/16/2021: spelling mistakes
> 
> Fun fact: I have never fainted or been shot!  
> I got really close to fainting once (backstory: I was in a psychiatric ward for a few days and we (all of the patients) had to get blood drawn each morning. I have a severe phobia of needles.)) I woke up late but the nurses being nice let me sleep in, I was hungry and dehydrated (normal) and then scared for my life because AH NEEDLE- We had to go out of the ward part of the- well, ward where they had all of the bedrooms and the cafeteria to get our blood drawn. I nearly fell on my face on the way back to my room. Ah, the small luxuries of getting a barf bag from a fellow patient. Thank you un-named fellow patient. I never knew your name, but thanks for that bag. The comfort was enough for me to not throw up. :,)
> 
> Sources:
> 
> Gunshot wounds and How to Care for Them n' shit:  
> https://medlineplus.gov/ency/patientinstructions/000737.htm
> 
> All About Fainting:  
> https://www.webmd.com/brain/understanding-fainting-basics#1
> 
> (Also, holy shit thanks for 4,000 hits I can't-)  
> (Welcome to page 148 too 🙃)


	28. So Like, Nakey or no Nakey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathing. It's just literally bathing. And Daryl ogling at Rick. Very much ogling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to go as far as I possibly can with this story, like, what we have cannon wise. Also, these titles have hardly any relevance to the story part lol

One bad (or good thing depending on how you think about it) about being wounded is that you can’t shower on your own.

Alas, here Daryl is, being shoved into the showers by Rick and Carol. Daryl was whining and kicking up a storm. Carol said she would, ‘castrate Daryl herself if she has to smell dried sweat and cacked blood every time he passes’. Rick was much more nice about it, he said that his, ‘shirt was getting a bit dirty from Daryl laying his head on it.’ How  _ civil  _ of these people. Daryl already knew he would have to get sponged down and  _ he does  _ **_not_ ** _ want to be a part of that _ . Carol said she could do it, but Daryl immediately shot that down. . . Along with the other ideas. Namely Maggie doing it, he would never escape the teasing he bets. Then, that left Rick.

Good  _ God  _ did Daryl not want Rick to see him naked. It wasn’t Rick seeing his back anymore, he had already seen it (doesn’t mean Daryl wants him to see it more, though), but it was namely everything below Daryl’s waist. You know, the  _ heat-seeking moisture missile _ . The  _ weapon of ass destruction.  _ The  _ Rumpleforeskin _ . The  _ Herman von Longschlongstein _ . Daryl wasn’t embarrassed, no, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. . . No, there was  _ so much to be embarrassed about _ . It’s his fucking dick. Once Rick sees it (because Daryl knows he’s not getting out of this), he’ll ridicule Daryl and then be done with him. No, no, he would keep on ridiculing Daryl, he wouldn’t stop once he knew.

Lori and Shane looked so aggressive with Shane breathing in Lori’s face, his expression a snarl. Lori sounded in pain, but she looked okay. It all sounded really mean and painful. Daryl had never gotten the, “birds and the bees,” talk so to say. The closest he’d gotten was Merle talking about his own escapades. To be honest, Daryl really doesn’t want to think about Shane fucking right now.

“Wash him good,” Carol said before walking away.

Daryl wanted to cry. He didn’t want to wash at all least of all with Rick looking at him with judgemental eyes. Daryl chanced a peak at Rick and found him shuffling through a basket of soaps. It looked like his. Rick was going to let him use his soap maybe? Rick took out three soaps, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner no doubt, and a sponge.  _ Ugh _ .

“No going into the shower, your wound has to stay dry. These crappy showerheads wouldn’t feel good on it either,” Rick said, pointing to the slightly rusted, slightly green shower heads.

Rick didn’t seem expectant or annoyed, no, he seemed. . .  _ Worried _ ?  _ Anxious _ ? No, Rick doesn’t get anxious. Or does he? Daryl’s having a hard time pinpointing Rick’s emotions, probably the pain medication he was forced to choke down. Curse Rick and his sweet kisses.

Daryl looked helplessly between the showerhead in front of him and back at Rick, a frown slapped onto his face. He doesn’t want to clean. He doesn’t want to. Rick walked towards him with a sponge in hand and the three soaps precariously balancing on his arm. Daryl should do something sexy, right? That’s what people do, right? He didn’t do anything, he just froze.

Rick gently pushed his arm. “Common.” Rick’s voice then took on a more gentle tone, “I can see your thoughts like an open book. Are you nervous?”

_ Why did he have to ask if he said he could read Daryl _ ? Daryl shook his head, taking the “masculine” route. No vulnerability here, no siree! Rick was not convinced. His look read, “ _ I know you’re lying to me I can hear your thoughts, _ ” and, “ _ I cuddled with you when you were half naked are you serious _ ?” It was a mix of the two. Daryl dipped his head down, he felt bad. He just lied to Rick. Rick came down to meet Daryl’s eyes.

“It’s okay, I know,” he soothed, “it’ll be okay. We both know we can’t get your wound wet, and I don’t really want you to pull your arms around too much.”

Yeah, Daryl knew this, it didn’t make it any less nerve wracking though. He doesn’t want Rick to look at his body- at  _ any  _ part. Not today. Rick gently pushed Daryl. It wasn’t aggressive, it was more of a suggestion. Daryl’s feet seemed to move on their own. He moved into the shower, just kind of standing there, waiting for instructions. Rick cocked his head, but didn’t mention anything. Daryl twisted his fingers and bit his thumb. 

“How about you take off your shirt first and keep your pants on,” Rick said.

Daryl nodded. Yeah, he could do that. Daryl took off his white shirt (now skidded with dirt and his own blood) and tossed it on the ground. That shirt is garbage, it has a gunshot hole in it. This was fine, he just kept his chest to Rick. Rick used the now turned on shower to wet down the sponge, lathering it with body wash.

“I’ll get your hair after, alright?”, Rick asked.

Daryl mutely nodded. Rick looked like he was struggling between taking his time and making sure Daryl was adequately washed or hurrying along to not make Daryl suffer. Daryl slowly got used to it, Rick’s hands kneading at his shoulders felt great. He worked out the tenseness and left Daryl feeling warm and like jello.  _ Wonderful _ . It got easier after that. Rick’s hands skirted over Daryl’s sides, leaving a tickle behind. Rick didn’t go to his waist which was nice. Him fondling anywhere he could reach was intimate enough right now.

Rick quietly nodded and backed up like he was admiring a masterpiece, hands on his hips and all. If he puts his thumb up and closes an eye, the look would be perfect. Daryl didn’t really want to put that shirt on again. . . Uh-oh. They didn’t think about this part. This would be easier if they had a towel, Daryl could just wrap it around his waist or ball it up on his crotch. The only way to do this would be to get fully naked and- uh-  _ no _ . 

Rick stood there quietly as Daryl worked out things in his head before he said, “it’s okay. I’m not going to care.”

Daryl gave Rick a look, it was made up of anxiety and pure, overwhelming, shame. It was painful to look at. Rick cocked his head, it looked like he was trying to sift through Daryl’s thoughts and emotions and  _ damn did he have to sift _ . 

“Do you think I’m going to laugh at your. . . ?”, Rick left it mildly ambiguous but it was pretty obvious what he was going for.

Daryl scoffed, hackles rising. “Nothin’ to laugh about, ‘m not. . . Small.”

_ That was hard to squeeze out _ .

Rick looked unsure. Not about Daryl’s size, no, it seemed like he couldn’t care less, but that Daryl wasn’t insecure about it. Daryl was doing a shit job at covering his anxiety.  _ Relationships are all about communication _ , popped into his mind and he sighed, deflating. Daryl leaned into Rick and put his head on his shoulder, hiding his face in Rick’s neck.

“‘M scared,” Daryl admitted.

_ Admitting it is half the battle, woo-hoo. _

“Why?”, Rick asked.

Daryl took a breath. His masculinity hurts.

“I. . . Think ‘m small,” Daryl said.

_ Uh- this hurts _ !

Rick looked like he wanted to laugh at Daryl’s stupidity but also wanted to take this as serious as the groups’ safety. Rick settled on rubbing circles into Daryl’s spine which was surprisingly nice.

“Did anyone tell you that?”, Rick asked.

Daryl shook his head and went to complain, “nobody had to-”

“Nothing counts as small, that’s just bullshit that society put in place for no reason. I really don’t care, you could have a glowing dick for all I care. Do you even have any frame of reference to what ‘small’ is?” At Daryl’s raised brows Rick expanded on that. “Any  _ real  _ people, not a pornstar because they don’t count.”

“Wow, so’s pornstars ain’t real people now, wow.” Rick had a  _ ‘really _ ?’ look so Daryl quickly amended it with, “no, don’t got no one to compare to really.”

“Exactly, so anything you have down there ain’t gonna surprise me.”

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, Daryl’s got this. He’s okay.

“I need to shower anyways as well, this,” Rick gestured to his own head, “isn’t nice. How do you deal with it?”

This was definitely Rick giving Daryl equal footing, Rick’s hair is hardly dirty and not in the Daryl clean way. It was hardly even greasy.  _ I don’t deserve this _ . Rick took off his shirt and shucked his pants like he had no shame. Daryl studied Rick’s face for a second,  _ yup, no shame _ . Daryl looked away quickly once Rick started to take off his boxers because  _ mhm there’s something going on down south and Daryl wants his body to stop _ . Rick stepped past Daryl and into the stream of water. 

_ Abort, abort, abort, abort, abort _ !

Yeah, Rick had more control than Daryl did, he wasn’t the one shaking like a leaf. It was slow, but eventually Daryl got his pants off but stayed half-curled. Rick looked hot and Daryl’s body was doing things that would be embarrassing.

“You’re beautiful,” Rick said. “And purfect.”

Daryl thought this was a lie, it had to be. He’s a mess, he’s not perfect or beautiful or handsome or worthy of affection, but the way Rick said it almost had him believing. Rick massages his legs and washed him up. Rick practically massaged every part of his body. Legs, shoulders, back, chest, arms, all of it. It was hard to face Rick and it was hard to turn his back to him, but they got there. Rick didn’t gasp at Daryl’s scars still, he didn’t not ignore them though, he traced a few and kissed the others. It was magical. Rick didn’t mention Daryl’s  _ one eyed monster  _ waking up and thank God for that.

Daryl turned Rick around and grunted a small, “stay still.” 

He started massaging behind Rick’s ears, then to his shoulders (which had huge knots in them), and then his biceps. Rick was practically sighing up a storm. It was utterly beautiful. It was terrifying, so very terrifying, Daryl shouldn’t be thinking about another man like this but  _ oh Rick’s beautiful _ . Also, it’s a bit late to be having second thoughts. Rick smiled and kissed Daryl’s fingers that were sitting on his shoulder. Rick turned around and the two just held each other, they just sat in each other’s warmth. Daryl really, really likes Rick’s heartbeat. It goes, ‘bum bum, bum, bum, bum bum, bum, bum’.

It was hard to peel each other apart, both from their sticky skin and from not wanting to part. They washed each other’s hair at the same time, limbs tangled and stabby fingers. It was lighthearted and sweet. The air filled with a flowery smell from the soap and made Daryl sneeze.

Rick, very helpfully, didn’t mention the sneezing fit outside of snorting quietly.

Daryl was happy to finally slap some pants on once again. He knew Rick wouldn’t laugh at him, he hadn’t so far, but it was such a relief to get something on. Rick inspected his wound and rewrapped it with clean gause. Rick’s hand caressed his side before putting his own underwear and pants on.  _ No shame. Which is perfectly fine _ .

Rick and Daryl were making their way to the cell block (Daryl scared Dr. S into letting him go to his cell on the condition that he would let the doctor look at the wound) and Daryl was, surprisingly enough, the one to talk first.

“Michonne still here?”, Daryl questioned.

Rick hummed. “Yeah. Don’t know why.”

“Maybe she figured out that cha’ can’t do anythin’ anymore without people.”

  
Rick smiled at Daryl and Daryl shrugged.

“Does your side feel okay?”

“Think the meds are wearin’ off,” Daryl said as a sort of half answer.

He wasn’t going to lie to Rick. It felt horrible to even tell a tiny, little lie to Rick, Daryl’s too loyal.

“Do you want to take any more? You won’t be moving around much for the rest of today.”

Daryl grumbled in disdain.

“Oh, don’t do that. Just stay in bed and if not for you, for me.”

_ Goddamnit Rick and your extremely handsome face. _

Daryl nodded. Time to be useless and probably get kicked out because he’s too much to drag around!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Daryl being insecure about his dick and idk why-  
> (I blame the crack fic I wrote). I was asked for more men bathing (you know who you are❤️ ) so here you go. This is definitely not the last bathing scene, I love me some long, hot showers. For this part I listened to Creature, TrusT, RUNAWAY, and ok ok? by half●alive. I really love their music, it's good. 
> 
> Sometimes when I get really anxious from things reminding me about stuff that I'd rather forget and I upload a story part (aka right now, my soul hurts not gonna lie), I listen to my story part via Google Translate to catch any mistakes and make final changes. This time, I was listening to this part and when Daryl goes, ""turn around"", the Google lady sounded downright murderous and it went from choppy reading to smooth and human for a quick second. Scared the shit out of me.
> 
> Some plot will happen next chapter I swear. 😖
> 
> (P.S. I'm on page 153 and holy shit when did this happen? My Google Doc is very laggy)


	29. Rick! The Man in Our Basement is Causing Trouble Again!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Governor being a general dick. Daryl listening. Talking about past trauma. Daryl cares. Oof Michonne-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot stress this enough: LOOK IN THE END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER. 
> 
> This entire story will have it's triggers in the tags as well, but when we come across something triggering, I'll always write it in the end notes. I know that getting triggered is not fun and I want to keep my readers safe while reading. If you have triggers, check the notes right now. I know for me, knowing what I'm walking into makes it less surprising and not triggering.
> 
> I could possibly miss some triggers, so refer to the serious tags to refresh your mind about what you might be going into.

Daryl narrowed his eyes down at the pathetic, writhing form of the Governor on the floor. He had his hands tied above his head, the metal of the handcuffs glinting. These were probably Rick’s. Or Shane’s. The Governor’s feet weren’t tied, leaving them flailing. That wasn’t safe. Daryl would tie them if he had something to tie them with or if Rick allowed him to move his arms. The mother hen wouldn’t let Daryl use his arms hardly at all. How dare he.

“You should have just let me have Michonne and Daryl,” the Governor hissed out. “I would have left you if you did. Could have figured something out.”

Rick shook his head. “No you wouldn’t have.” 

The Governor growled as Rick crouched in front of him. Rick watched the Governor for a few quiet seconds before looking back at Daryl with a squint.

“What do you think we should do with him?”

_ Kill him _ , is what Daryl wants to do. Or he wants him to starve to death. 

“Should ask Glenn, Maggie, n’ Michonne,” Daryl half answered. 

He thinks saying what he really wanted would make Rick disgusted, but then again he looked like he wasn’t trying to really ask Daryl what he wanted, but was more asking for permission to end the Governor. Rick nodded and got up, looking down at the Governor with a clenched jaw. Rick looked over to Daryl and underneath Rick’s calm exterior was a raging anger. It looked like a monster that was trying to climb out.

_ In due time _ , Daryl thought.

Rick’s lips twitched into a smile. Glenn and Maggie were out in one of the guard towers. Luckily, they were actually on watch. Rick sent them down to the Governor and told them to wait as he and Daryl went and got Michonne. Michonne was a bit harder to find, actually, a lot harder. She was on the roof, not bothering Daryl's nest. She must have known it was his.

"Michonne," Rick greeted.

Michonne had definitely heard them before Rick called out to her. Turning slowly, she nodded at them. There was a series of crashes from down below and Rick grimaced. 

"I should go check that out. Can you tell her what's up?", Rick asked Daryl who nodded.

Daryl limped his way over to Michonne (his side was hurting like a bitch but he wasn't going to verbally complain), sitting down next to her.

"You were keeping this view away from everyone for how long?", she asked lightly.

Daryl hummed a, "yes."

"So what calls you two to me?"

"Governor," Daryl answers, "tryin' ta' figure out what ta' do with him."

Michonne clicked her tongue, adjusting her katana on her lap.

"Kill him, let him rot, torture him, send him out, I don't care, just don't let him stay here," Michonne said.

Daryl shook his head. "If ya' don't put chur' rulin' in now, Maggie n' Glenn will decide, n’ we both know what Maggie will want."

Glenn will want to let him go, the dark haired kid doesn't want blood on his hands. Maggie, on the other hand, will want to kill the Governor herself, which is fine. 

"Rick wants to skin him alive and then bury him while he's still breathing," Michonne says.

She only saw Rick for, what? A minute and she was able to pick that up? But she's right, Rick does want to kill him. He’s dark and vengeful. Daryl's not complaining.

“Why’re ya’ still ‘ere?”, Daryl asks.

Michonne turned to him and Daryl dipped his head, watching her through his hair.

“Already trying to get me to move out?” She had a smidgen of a smile. “I don’t know. Y’all got the Governor, so I can go if I want, and I almost do.”

“Can’t do nothin’ without people now. Should know that, was fixin’ ta’ get away from this group a while back.”

“But you got sucked in by Rick’s charm, right?”

Michonne is now Daryl’s third favorite person. She’s so damn perceptive. Daryl slightly smiled.

“Mhm, hit the nail right on the head. Make connections,” Daryl said.

Connections, make connections and you learn. Michonne looked like she was mulling that over in her head before nodding.

“You saved me. Now, I would have expected Rick or maybe even Glenn, but not you. So why?”, Michonne asked.

“Rick would ‘ave wanted me to,” Daryl answers.

Michonne nods in approval. 

“Fair.”

“Common,” Daryl gestured as he slowly rose to his feet. Rick would have a fit if he knew Daryl was getting up on his own. “Let’s deal with the Governor.”

“Phillip,” Michonne said, “his name’s Phillip. He never wanted anyone to know his real name, sketchy fucker.”

She got up to follow Daryl. He kept her in his vision  _ just in case _ . She didn’t do anything, just went down the ladder quietly. She looked nervous, but it was covered with a thick layer of anger. 

_ How curious _ .

Glenn was tightly holding Maggie’s hand, so tight that his fingers and her hand were white. They both had a pained grimace on their faces. Rick looked about ready to burst. The Governor was taunting them about how he’s still won, how they’ve failed. Daryl kicked the fucker right in the face once he started going after Rick though, anger made Daryl’s muscles taut. Daryl’s starting to get why Rick’s so eager to kill this man. The Governor’s nose cracked under the toe of Daryl’s shoe, the man crying out as blood poured down his face.

“Daryl,” Rick soothed, placing a hand on Daryl’s shoulder.

Daryl hissed down at the Governor (Daryl doesn’t want to acknowledge that this  _ man  _ has a name) and stood next to Rick, backing away from the Governor. Rick held Daryl’s hand, to ground him. It worked, the contact kept him from ripping the Governor a new one.  _ But it was really hard _ .

“Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, anything you want to say?”, Rick asked.

Maggie squeezed Glenn’s hand and walked over to the Governor with a sneer. “You will have an agonizing death. It won’t be quick, it’ll be slow, but not special. You won’t be able to hurt anyone else ever again,” she said, standing tall with her chest puffed.

She stiffly walked back to Glenn, grabbing his hand again quickly. It looks like Maggie needs to be held back by her lover as well. Michonne was quietly standing far away from the Governor who had a shark-like grin.

“Michonne, I’m glad to see you again. Why don’t you come on over out of the shadows?”

Michonne flinched, leaning further into the darkness. What did he do to her? Rick stepped in the middle of Michonne and the Governor, Daryl and his linked hand coming out from behind the two as he moved. The Governor latched onto that.

“Didn’t take either of you for being gay.” It didn’t look like he was bothered by that, but more that he wanted to find a way to insult Rick and Daryl. “Thought you were both high and mighty.”

How  _ dare  _ he try and come after their. . . Relationship, though. It’s a relationship, right? What is it? It’s a thing. There. Daryl slightly lowered his head, looking around at Glenn, Maggie, and Michone’s reactions. They didn’t react at all, like it was normal. But it’s not, right? It’s not normal.

“I can see your thoughts,” the Governor said to Daryl.

Daryl wasn’t hiding his emotions that well right now, he could probably see the uncertainty run through him. Daryl didn’t want this to be the way that Rick and his thing came out to a few of the others.    
  
“You’re not going to hurt anyone else,” Michonne said. “I know what you did to Andre and Mike, and you won't do that to anyone else.” She looked in pain, but she pushed through, walking to tower over the Governor. “Phillip,” she addressed him. “You will die.”

And that would be the verdict. The Governor would die. Daryl felt relieved but, oddly, worried. What would this do to the group? Killing another human isn’t a small thing, no matter how evil they are. This group had obviously never killed anyone, they would be more ruined.

It was quiet, even when they arrived in the mess hall. Daryl didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be left alone with Rick. Rick had things to attend to other than Daryl and that was fine. Daryl was just being selfish. That is Daryl though, selfish. So after about ten minutes of sitting still in a corner with women whispering to each other while looking at him with a mix of suspicion and lust, Daryl got up and limped to his cell. The group’s cell block ( the newly appointed cell block A) was connected to the mess hall, it was just a short hall and a small room away, unlike cell block B and C that you had to go through a mess of halls and rooms to get to. The cells were in rows of six with only one row below and then a staircase that led to a catwalk. Above there were two rows making twelve cells on top and six on bottom. It was clean, much more clean than juvie. It helped Daryl distinguish that no, he’s not in juvie. 

His bed’s mattress was lumpy and cold. He was tired but his brain thought it would be the best time to go over what happened today. Daryl has a bout of bravery from getting a neutral reaction out of Maggie and Glenn (Michonne seemed to already know). They acted like two men being together was normal. Speaking of Michonne, she was lightly tapping on Daryl’s cell door.

“Knock, knock,” she said.

Daryl cocked his head at her. “Who’s there?”

Michonne seemed taken aback slightly as she fumbled for a joke.

“Atch.”

“Atch who?”

“Bless you.” 

Daryl sat quietly for a second, deliberating if that joke was good enough. It was. Daryl nodded at her and gestured Michonne inside. The lumps in his mattress dug into his tailbone. Michonne sat down on the other side of Daryl’s small bed and grunted at the lumps.

“I know you have questions,” she said. “Ask them. I can take it.”

Daryl did have questions, a lot actually. She said she could take them, but it would be better to start off light.

“What was in those bags ya’ had?”

“Snow pants, diapers, baby clothes, long coats, thick socks. It was stuff Maggie and Glenn had collected, I just brought it here. Thought it would make me less threatening.”

Daryl shrugged. “Ya’ weren’t all that threatenin’ with yer’ wounds n’ shit.” Next question. “Those walkers, the ones with the missin’ jaws n’ arms. Did they do anythin’?”

“I think the smells confused other walkers,” she said, stroking her chin. “If you take away their abilities to scratch and bite, they turn passive.”

It was like when Rick and he had covered themselves with that walker’s insides, the smells made the walkers think they were part of the undead.  _ That’s very interesting _ . Michonne’s way was definitely less gross, though. And way less dangerous, who knows what walker blood in the mouth or eyes could do.

Michonne seemed pretty calm and comfortable, they could start tackling the harder questions now. “How’d ya’ know the layout of Woodbury?” Take it slow, one question at a time no matter how curious Daryl is.

“I was there for a while, long enough to know the majority of the locations. I poked around too. I was pretty antsy, should have stayed that way.”

_ Ominous _ .

“Ya’ said the Governor didn’t want anyone to know his name. How’d ya’ know it, then?” They’re getting into the meat and potatoes, now.

“I was. . . I don’t know what you would call it, with him? Moderately close friends with benefits? I had a husband, we had an open relationship. Phillip told me his name after Mike and Andre-”, she cut herself off with a choked sob. “Andre was my son and that monster- I don’t know if he wanted Mike and Andre out of the picture or what.”

_ Oh. Ooh. _

Michonne took deep breaths while Daryl thought about what she just said. The Governor, the disgusting man he is, killed them. 

_ Uhh- Michonne, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts _ !

“Andre, how old was he?” This could be a clean hit or a huge fucking miss.

“Three.”  _ Jesus Christ almighty _ . “He was so smart and so beautiful. My little boy. When he was learning how to walk I just- it was all happening so fast and it was amazing,” Michonne reminisced, tears still streaming down her face.

_ A bullseye _ .

“From what it looks like, you’ll have to go through that with Judith,” she laughed. Good, she got out of that pit of depression relatively unscathed.

“Not her dad,” Daryl said because  _ he’s not _ .

“Looking at it right now, you will be.”

Daryl likes Michonne. It’s nice to sit and talk sometimes, and Michonne is really good at getting Daryl to actually talk like a normal human. Rick peeked in from the door.

“Oh, hey Michonne,” he greeted.

Daryl smiled at Rick. Good, those people finally left him alone.

“Hey,” Michonne waved. “I’ll give you lovers some time alone.” She winked. Fucking  _ winked _ .

Rick snorted and Michonne got up, rubbing her butt and glaring at the mattress for a second before waving at Daryl.

“Ya’ll be ‘lright?”, Daryl asked.

Michonne’s light smile brightened. “I knew you cared. Yeah, I’ll be good.”

And then she was gone like an elusive ghost. How majestic.

“Did you and Michonne have a good talk?”

Daryl nodded at Rick. “Mhm, now come here. My back hurts.”

Truth be told, his back does hurt from leaning against the crappy headboard of his bed that's more like some metal poles holding the bed to the wall. Daryl basically collapsed on Rick (lightly, his side still hurts (and if he gets one more worried/angry look from Rick, he might just burst)) when he sat down. God, he just wanted to bury himself in Rick’s chest and never come back to the real world. Daryl just wanted to sit in silence and breath for once. Being with Rick is like being somewhere Daryl can actually calm down and relax. He trusts Rick to have his back. Woah, when did that happen?

Rick shifted and granted. “I’m getting you a new mattress.”

“Hah, ‘s what Michonne probably thought. Ya’ know, I could just stay in yer’ bed.”

Rick snapped his eyes down to Daryl with a surprised look. Why is he so surprised.

“You want to sleep with me?”

“Don’t gotta say it like that, but yea’,” Daryl said slowly.  _ What is Rick trying to get at _ ?

Rick smiled. “You’re okay with people knowing?”

_ Oh _ .

“Yea’, ‘course. It’ll get those ladies off’a yer’ back. I don’t like sharin’.”

“And I’m perfectly content with that,” Rick said, nodding mostly to himself.

Is this what having a family is like? Sure, once upon a time Daryl had Merle, but it was more an obligation. A, ‘he’s my kin so we have to keep an eye out for each other.’ Daryl still loved his dad, it was a sick kind of love. A love hate. Daryl thinks Pa wasn’t supposed to kick or hurt him or Merle, because, well, it hurt. Anything that hurts is probably wrong.

“Rick?” Rick softly hummed. He looked half-asleep. “I think my Pa wasn’t good.”

Daryl didn’t like Pa for hurting Merle, but he didn’t resent Pa for hurting him. That’s wrong, right? Rick cracked his eyes open.

“Hm. What’d he do to make you think that?”

“He didn’t like me or Merle, always threw shit at us. Hit us. ‘S not normal, right?”

Rick sat up a little bit straighter, more awake now.

“He hit you? He’s dead, right?”

Oh shit Rick was mad. But not at Daryl, no, at Pa.

“Yea’, he’s dead.” Daryl sunk into Rick’s chest a bit. “Merle had my back fer’ a while, ‘til I was ‘round six. He went to the Army then, left me. Pa hittin’ me, ‘s not normal, though, right?”

_ Please, don’t let that be normal. Don’t let it _ . Rick shook his head quickly.

“No, no that’s not normal. Parents shouldn’t ever even- no  _ adult  _ should ever abuse anyone. When did you get out of there? You couldn’t have spent all your life there, right?”

Daryl got out at twenty-one when Merle came back from the Army. Daryl really committed that to memory, it was something special, getting away from that beer bottle ridden, feces smelling house. No matter how much Daryl idolized Pa, that house is something he’ll never regret leaving. Life was better after then, it wasn’t good, riding around with Merle and barely getting by with constant fights and Merle going to jail constantly wasn’t good. Even with the fights that usually always got physical, it was better. There wasn’t a looming cloud of, ‘someone dangerous, someone who is always out for you is always looking for you and nowhere is safe.’

“Yea’, yea’ I got out. Twenty-one,” Daryl answered.

He shouldn’t have asked about this, it was a mistake. He wanted it to stop now. Rick held him close, burying his face into Daryl’s head, breathing in and out to control his anger. Daryl’s side twinged in pain and he tried to hide his wince. It didn’t work. Rick, of course, noticed.

“Are you in pain? We have more painkillers,” Rick asked.

_ No, I don’t need it, I’ve done this before _ -

“Daryl, are you in pain?”

“Yes,” Daryl sighed. His side was picking up now. All of that walking and climbing onto the roof was starting to take it's toll. Daryl  _ hates  _ being weak.

“Here,” Rick read the back of the bottle, squinting. He gave Daryl one pill. “Don’t say something like, “don’t gotta use anythin’ on meh’,” because that's some bullshit,” Rick mimicked Daryl in a bad, thick, southern accent.

“’Ight,” Daryl agreed, popping the pill and chasing it down with water.

It felt like it was already working, but that was probably just Daryl’s mind playing tricks on him. Rick and Daryl settled back down into a soft sleep. And with some wishful thinking, nothing bad happened. Until it did because  _ of course _ .

No rest for the wicked, Daryl guesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .:Warnings! Past child death, past murder (this is a WD fic though so idk), past child abuse (Daryl's here like-), mention of juvenile prison really briefly (idk if that's a trigger but I bet it could be and I want to be safe):.
> 
> MMMMMMM ANOTHER SMALL CLIFFHANGER MMMMMMMM
> 
> Hint: no one will die and Daryl will not get hurt again.
> 
> Michonne's backstory with the Governor explanation: Andrea wasn't there to really be an intel source or a romantic "interest" for the Governor, so I made Michonne almost take her place. But I didn't want Andre and Mike to be dead just yet, I wanted something raw and disgusting. In the cannon plot the Governor is just- what? A murderer and a perv? Like, yeah, not good at all, he was disgusting in cannon too, but compared to like, Negan or the Clamers he was very bland more or less. I wanted something to really get it in there that he's horrible and really deserves to die. Also, I have a really hard time writing almost like "nice guy" villains if that makes sense, so I wanted another thing to help myself in writing him. Michonne is very resilient and strong and I wanted to articulate that. She's fabulous and deserves tons of gold metals and a hot bowl of soup. She'll get through this, she's extremely strong. She also has the support of her new found family as well.
> 
> So much cuddling, can you tell I'm a cuddle-bug? I want Rick and Daryl to have an interdependent relationship (because that's what relationships are), so I think I'm going to try and make an effort to show that off more, just depends if I can fit it into the story and not make it clash with a coherent plot. Hhh, struggles.
> 
> Oh yeah, I wanted to thank all of you for the time you let me have to work on homework. Now, I know I could fuck off and do whatever I wanted and no one would get mad at me (probably, it's happened a few times), but it was nice to be told that it was okay. Good news! I got all of it done in time for the semester to end! It ended on the 14th (Jan 14th) and I did it. This semester sucked so bad, between Covid attacking the town I live in to it getting in my household probably twice (we had pretty much all of the Covid symptoms but tests weren't being used for the mass majority of people in March and we were told it was the flu. We quarantined extra to be safe). I passed all of my classes! Thank you all for giving me time.❤️
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this part, I had a harsh lack of motivation and I just read and played games oop-
> 
> I'm also working on another fic on the side! It's a time fix-it of sorts and I plan on posting it after this is finished. Hopefully I can finish that too. Okay I'll go now.


	30. "You're my Brother," Scene but not Because You're my Lover so Yeah Luv U ❤️

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New people. Daryl gets a lil' bit pissy. Uuuuuuuuuuuh Rick no cover your eyes. Rick's a lil' bit worried 'bout himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmmm new tag.

People. More people. The tall, broad man was intimidating. They were at the gates, asking for help. Someone was bitten and they didn’t seem to know what to do. Daryl knows that feeling. Having someone close to you dying right in front of you and being scared and alone. Difference is, these people aren’t alone, they have both each other and now the group. Rick let them in warily, holding them in his reach with a hand resting on his Python. Good, he was learning.

Daryl had limped out after Rick. One of the Woodbury folks came to Daryl’s cell and found the two sprawled out on the hard mattress. He stuttered as they cracked their eyes open and yawned but eventually got over the shock (how is it such a shock? It’s just two dudes being dudes), telling them that there were people at the gates asking for help and Rick was needed. Rick, such a hero, softly slipped out from under Daryl and told him to stay. Daryl didn’t.

“Daryl,” Rick grumbled as they passed him. “You’re injured. I told you to stay back.”

“‘M injured, not fuckin’ disabled,” Daryl snapped back. It had almost no heat to it.

“Common, lean on me. Don’t complain.”

Daryl just mumbled some curses but slung his arm over Rick’s shoulders, Rick wrapping his arm around his waist, hand still on his Colt.

“You’re lucky I’m not carryin’ you, Darlin’.”

Daryl doesn’t know how he feels about that. Scratch that, no, that name sounds great. It’s like it’s caressing his ears.

“Gon’ treat me like a damsel?”, Daryl asked, entertained.

Carol and Michonne were watching the four alive people and one dying person with suspicion. They were ready to restrain the people if need be. Michonne and Carol followed closely, Rick was mildly incapacitated right now. Daryl realized he didn’t have any weapon on him. 

_ What this man fucking does to me _ , Daryl thought.

Rick instructed them to go through the second set of gates and into the front doors. They sat down at a table and laid a bitten lady out on a table once a sheet was placed under her. Rick eased Daryl down into a seat and patted his shoulder with a concerned expression. Daryl nodded, he was okay, there was a dull ache deep in his side, but he could live. Rick gave him a, ‘ _ are you sure? _ ’, look. Daryl sighed and nodded. Yes, yes he’s fine, he’s currently more curious about the people in front of him. 

Rick turned around to address the people. “Who are you?”, Rick asked, hands on his hips.

“I’m Tyreese. This is my sister Sasha,” he gestured at the woman sitting next to him, “and that’s Allen, Ben, and Donna.”

“Ty, ya’ can’t just give our names out,” Allen growled, holding the dying Donna’s hand.

“Will all due respect, you’re now in our home, you answer our questions. We understand being wary of us, we’re wary of you. You’re here and you chose to come in, now. You chose to go to the gates,” Rick said, tone booking no room for complaints.

“What are we going to do about that?”, Michonne asked, pointing at the woman currently dying on the table.

Allen’s hand tightened around Donna’s and his jaw set. Daryl jumped up, going to stand beside Rick. It was obvious he was injured with his slight limp and all. Daryl held Rick’s hand behind their backs, watching Allen closely. Mourning people are erratic and dangerous, Daryl has found. He doesn’t doubt that if enough buttons are pressed, this guy will spring up and attack. Rick’s gaze found Allen’s twitching hand, he was squeezing Donna’s hand so hard it was twitching, and he lightly squeezed Daryl’s hand. It was a sign that Rick heard Daryl’s warning.

“We have to put her down,” Rick said to Michonne.

“No!”, Allen exclaimed, shooting to his feet.

Daryl’s shoulders raised and he raised his hands into fists. This man was a  _ threat _ , he would hurt Daryl’s favorite people. Rick put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, not to hold him back, but to have contact. Daryl knew Rick was telling him to relax. Daryl did slightly.

“She’s bit. She’s a walker now, not a human. She’s dying. The fever’s setting in and I bet she had blood loss as well. We have to put her down,” Rick said. “You’re in our home now, you have to adhere to our rules. If you do that, you can stay.”

“Allen,” Tyreese pleaded. “Think about it, think about Ben. Food, shelter, water, protection, fences. We could be safe.”

“We don’t have another choice,” Sasha said. Shasha turned to look at Rick in the eyes, shoulders back, head held high. “We’ll go with your rules.”

Rick nodded. “I’m going to pat you all down, stand in a line.”

It was mechanical, Rick patted them and passed their knives and guns over to Michonne who then handed them to Carol.

“What did y’all used to do before?”, Rick asked.

They glanced at each other in confusion before answering. 

  
  
“Was a firefighter and Ty was in the NFL,” Sasha answered.

Rick looked over at Daryl with raised brows.

_ Did we just hit the jackpot _ ?

Daryl nodded.  _ Fuck yeah we did _ .

Rick returned to looking at Sasha and Tyreese. “You’ll both do runs. Finish off group 4.” Rick turned his attention to Allen and Ben. “You two?”

“Office worker,” Allen said.

_ Least he knows how to fucking count _ , Daryl snarked to himself.  _ ‘S not useful in the slightest _ .

Ben opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish before answering with, “I was a boy scout, Sir.”

Rick nodded. “Do you know anything useful?”

“Uh- I know how to light fires without a lighter or matches and some native berries,” the kid stuttered.

He seems almost useful.

“Daryl,” Rick said. Daryl looked at him. “Do you think you could do anything with that?”

Daryl nearly laughed. “Can figure out somethin’, ‘m sure.”

Great, Daryl’s going to be partnered up with this anxious teen. Knowing Rick, though, Daryl won’t be fully left alone.

Rick narrowed his eyes at the four people before holding out a knife. “Put her down. I don’t care who does it or how, but it’s gotta be done.”

Allen growled and snatched the knife away, going over to Donna who was struggling to breath. It was hard to watch and Daryl leaned into Rick’s side. He didn’t want to watch this. Rick wrapped an arm around him. Allen raised the knife over Donna’s head and she closed her eyes, it looked like acceptance. Maybe Allen didn’t take it like that though, because he let out a sharp sob and threw the knife. Sasha looked at the ground remorsefully and sighed, going to retrieve the knife from the floor. Tyreese set a hand on Allen’s shoulder and Allen huffed, twisting away.

“Do you want me to do it?”, Tyreese asked.

Allen snapped his eyes to Tyreese with a glare. “I have to.”

“No,” Donna said with a shake of her head. “You- you shouldn’t, Baby. It’s not- it’s not good for you.” She was out of breath, sweating profusely. 

Tyreese took the knife from Sasha’s outstretched hand, hesitating before saying, “I’m sorry,” to Donna and plunging the knife in the temple. Ben was curled in Allen’s arms, crying and sobbing. Rick let them cry for a minute, before breaking the (relative) silence.

“We’ll bury her with our dead,” he said. “You can. . .” Rick looked at Daryl, asking. “Stay with us in our cell block?”

Daryl nodded. Yeah, that’s okay if they stay away from him. Allen nodded and mumbled reassurances into Ben’s hair. Tyreese took a step forward but stopped when Daryl raised his shoulders. His mind was screaming at him that there was danger.

“We’re offly hungry, haven’t eaten for days,” Tyreese said, almost pleadingly.

“We don’t have much food. With Daryl injured right now, we’re only getting food from our scouts, and that’s not very reliable,” Carol explained.

Daryl grumbled out a, “I can go fuckin’ hunt, all ya’ gotta do is ask.”

Rick whipped his head to face Daryl. “No, you’re resting. I don’t want you more hurt. You have to heal. I already don’t like you moving around as much as you are. You’re staying in bed for the rest of the day.”

“‘M bein’ fuckin’ useless. Jus’ sittin’ ‘round doin’ nothin’ while y’all are workin’ out there. I can hunt a lil’ bit, Rick,” Daryl complained. “Fuckin’ usin’ up shit without replacin’ it.”

Rick sighed, “Daryl, we talked about this. You were shot! You’re healing and if you continue moving and doing things, you’ll make the wait for your wound to heal even longer.”

Daryl knows that Rick was being very logical, but it didn’t really dampen his anger. He was just so  _ antsy _ sitting around. He felt so utterly useless.

“Darlin’,” Rick said, putting both of his hands on Daryl’s shoulders, almost boxing Daryl in so he paid attention to Rick, “you’re not being useless. You being healthy is all I want right now, please, stay in bed. I’ll stay with you as much as I can.”

Daryl clenched his jaw and nodded. “Yea’, man. Fine.”

Rick quirked a small smile, turning back to the people watching them. Carol had a knowing grin, Michonne was still watching the new people, and the new group looked like they were trying to take apart what they just heard and saw.

“We’ll make dinner early tonight,” Rick said, looking at Carol. “Do you think that would work?”

“Yeah, it should,” Carol answered, adjusting her rifle. 

Daryl scoffed and stomped away. How  _ dare  _ Rick tell him to lay down. He will, of course, but he’s mad. Rick wouldn’t be able to come to his cell for a bit because, you know,  _ new people _ . So Daryl had time for his anger to simmer. He was laying on his back, hands clasped on his stomach as he felt himself breath. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to be alone again. He turned on his side, then back onto his back, then onto his side again. 

_ This fucking mattress _ .

Daryl’s spine ached, and he knows he shouldn’t complain, but it does. He’s lucky he even has a bed. He’s lucky the group took him in. He’s lucky Rick is with him. He doesn’t have a place to complain. He’s  _ damn  _ lucky. God, he doesn’t want to think right now. He felt need growing heavy in his stomach.

Daryl has never really had a reason to touch himself. When he did, though, it was always fast. It was only to satiate a human need. He never thought of people when he did it, not after he thought of a man for the first time. It felt really disgusting. He didn’t want to think of Rick either, that was just too  _ dirty _ . Ironic because he has his hand down his pants and that’s pretty damn dirty.

He went fast, tense and straining to listen for coming footsteps. There were three false alarms, Glenn and Maggie going to their cell, Carol going to get Sophia some warmer clothes, and Lori readying a few cells near Daryl for the newcomers. He tried to be as quiet as he could, but he kept on going faster and his hand was hitting his thigh. It wasn’t like he was making noise really, only a small grunt here and there, not enough to draw attention to him. Then, there was pressure in his gut and he curled his hand that was sitting lamely on his stomach onto his balls, rubbing and squeezing. Letting out a short moan, Daryl came on his hand.

And here comes the shame.

Daryl looked at the semen on his hand with a mix of shame and, ‘ _ ew, oh my God, what the hell is wrong with me _ ?’ Then, to make it worse because  _ only Daryl can suffer like so _ , Rick came in. Daryl looked at him with wide eyes and Rick just kind of paused. Then he laughed. 

“Uh,” Daryl made a noise.

_ Owie my soul _ .

Rick sat down on the bed next to Daryl, gently taking his hand and looking at the white splashed on Daryl’s tan hand. Rick’s eyes flicked between Daryl’s hand and his eyes, a humored look growing on his face. Rick’s like, silently rubbing salt in Daryl’s (figurative) wound. Rick wiped off Daryl’s hand with a sheet and that was that. Rick looked like he just blanked it and now doesn’t remember Daryl’s embarrassment, like he just whipped it from his mind.

“Wanna come to my cell? This mattress is bullshit.”

Daryl weakly chuckled, the shame still running it’s course. He just got caught post-beating-his-meat  _ what the fuck _ . He followed Rick to his cell, passing Carol who whistled and grinned and Lori who smiled brightly. If showing that he liked Rick was making other people smile in a situation like this, then dammit Daryl would be a PDA maniac. Making people smile, it’s. . . Nice. These people, they’re nice. Even though it's the apocalypse, Daryl has found people.

Daryl, of course, laid on Rick. This was their normal, they seemed to always lay like this. Until Daryl’s healed, that is, Daryl plans on changing it up a bit. Nothing will beat this, though.

“Got any idea what ya’ll do with the Governor?”, Daryl asked.

Rick hummed. “Not really sure. If we torture him, we’re no better than him. If we make him suffer, human morals don’t agree. If we let him go, he might come back for us. I think killing him would be best.”

Daryl nodded. “Mhm, yea’. Should make it quick, not waste any bullets, not make it special or anythin’.”

“That sounds good. Ya’ know, it’s weird talking so off-handedly about executing a man,” Rick said. “Like, I’ve killed people before, but that was on the job. I know the Governor ain’t good, but it just feels different. I really, really want to kill him though, and I think that scares me more.”

Daryl adjusted so he was laying stomach to stomach with Rick, slightly tilted so his wound won’t be laid on.

“Rick,” Daryl said, putting his arms under his chin. “Yer’ not bad. Yer’ not like him. I’d tell ya’ if ya’ were. Yer’ protectin’ yer’ family, ‘s good.”

“You’re part of my family, Daryl. You, me, Carl, Lori, and Shane. We’ll learn how to live. We’ll learn how to survive this. We can outlive the walkers, I just know it,” Rick declared, sounding hopeful.

Daryl’s heart nearly broke; he has a family. Holy shit, he doesn’t think Rick knows how much that means. He tried not to think about how this could all be ripped away. Daryl put his head down, exhaustion taking over from all of the excitement today.

“Mmh, thanks fer’ cleanin’ my hand by the way,” Daryl said.

Rick snorted. “Yeah, no problem. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I write comments for myself in my Doc, it's sometimes important information, but usually it's a joke.
> 
> Exhibit A:  
> "Rick let them in warily, holding them in his reach with a hand resting on his Python."  
> And I highlighted, "Python," and wrote, "not his dick."
> 
> That's literally it. 
> 
> Exhibit B:  
> "Mourning people are erratic and dangerous,"  
> I wrote, "Sounds like I'm saying that morning people are erratic and dangerous," with, "morning," italicized. 
> 
> And the granddaddy of them all, exhibit C:  
> "“Mhm, hit the nail right on the head. Make connections,” Daryl said.
> 
> Connections, make connections and you learn. Michonne looked like she was mulling that over in her head before nodding."
> 
> The second "connections," is highlighted and I wrote, "Make connections, Death Stranding style.
> 
> * Bee-le-deep *  
> "Daryl, good. You just connected another prepper to the Chiral Network. Report back to Lake Knot to get your next order."  
> * Bee-doop *
> 
> I'm a fucking riot." "Riot," is in bold.
> 
> Goddamnit.
> 
> So yeah, Tyreese and Sasha are here! Allen and Ben are also with, but they're like a third and fourth wheel if it was just related to character importance. Consequently, they're also very disposable. 🙂 I have no qualms about destroying them with my large, godly fists and my rule over the land (being this story, I don't have world domination yet). With the others though ehhhh I care too much. You know, I have a mental list of who I'm not going to kill, and it's ever growing becuase I care too much and- ugh it feels like a punch in the gut when I think about killing anyone off.
> 
> I'm surprised, I have general ideas about some of the big things I want to do in this story! I hardly ever have any plans for my stories and I just kinda go, "fuck it," and jump on in.
> 
> I take out a lot of things in this story, I want to share the best things I can cook up with you guys. I stick kind of close to the characters (or at least I try), so I take out a lot of things that are too OOC* for my liking. There's a blurry limit when it comes to OOC. Example: originally, instead of wiping off Daryl's hand, Rick fucking licked that shit up. I keep all of the taken out parts in comments, so I wrote, "It's hot but out of character 👊😞 ". Yeah, that was in there originally. I'm really fucking tired. For the past week, I've gotten five hours of sleep at most during the night. I can work with six hours, even two hours one night, but evidently not five hours for seven days. I'm very sleepy and when I'm sleepy I write bullshit that's usually a joke, or is really depressing. I'm in a very joking mood, like I'm making jokes unintentionally and I'm finding everything really fucking funny. I'm sick as well, not a great mix.  
> Help lol.
> 
> OOC* = Out Of Character


	31. Goddamnit Glenn and Maggie you two are too Cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl comes to the conclusion that Maggie and Glenn are okay humans. Rick's out for like -2 seconds. Setting boundaries and excessive hand-holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in the end notes to be safe.❤️

Daryl woke up to his face shoved into a pillow. It was one of those really puffy ones that kept scents in. Smelled like mildew and Rick, where the fuck did they get this pillow from? Rick wasn’t here and Daryl’s anxiety flared up before he quickly berated himself.

Rick had woken Daryl up briefly to let him know that he was accompanying what was dubbed, “scout group four” to see how Sasha and Tyreese would do. Daryl wasn’t really awake, so he just hummed and said a drowsy, “goodbye.” Rick had kissed his temple and lightly patted his shoulder.

He doesn’t need Rick every two seconds. Rick’s fine, he’s probably on a really, really boring run and is looting a really, really boring, empty, convenience store. It’s not like Daryl can't function without Rick. Stupid, dumb anxiety. Dumb, dumb worry. Rick’s fine. He wouldn’t get bit. Not him.

Funnily enough, that’s exactly what Merle said and look where he is now.

Rick said stay down and heal and Daryl is not happy with that. It was cold and Daryl shivered under a thin blanket. He wants to move, he wants to get out. It’s too stuffy in this cell. Everything’s closing in. So he struggled to stand, a mix of just waking up and slight pain prohibiting fluid movements, put on thicker clothing and shoes and stumbled down the halls and outside in the little area that leads into the yard. No one had the balls to stop him. Daryl leaned against the fence, looking out at the snow covered yard. He kept on subconsciously watching the gate. It was quiet and peaceful until it wasn’t.

“Worried about Rick?”, Maggie asked with Glenn following closely behind. Always together, those two.

Daryl glanced at her and grunted, shrugging. They don’t know about Rick and him. Out of everyone in group four, Daryl only cares for one, so it’s probably just an inference, right?  _ Right _ ?

“You shouldn’t be out here without a coat,” Glenn said, handing Daryl a blanket. That was. . . Oddly giving?

It was very soft and Daryl grunted again, trying to seem like he didn’t like it being around his shoulders. The blanket alleviated the cold from assaulting Daryl’s arms by a lot and it was a relief. It’s not like Daryl would say that though.

“He’ll be back,” Maggie said, leaning against the fence next to Daryl. “He’s careful. I don’t think Tyreese or Sasha will try to do anything, but if they do, I bet Rick could take care of them.”

Daryl didn’t say anything, he just continued surveying the yard while acting like he wasn’t worriedly glancing at the gate.

“Glenn, I have to fill the water cans with potable water, I’ll be back, you stay right here, okay?”

Glenn smiled, nodding. Maggie gave Glenn a goodbye kiss and picked up the jugs of water that they had set down. They’re really subconsciously rubbing the salt in, aren’t they? Daryl felt jealous, then mad, then mad at himself for even considering being mad at the lovebirds. Glenn has survived the times that Maggie’s gone out and Maggie has survived the times that Glenn has gone out, so Daryl can do this too. . .

The anxiety is eating Daryl up.

“So- uh, how’s the wound doing?”, Glenn asked.

Daryl shrugged. “Fine, it’s fine.”

“Do you need any pain killers?”

He could use some, his side is twinging in pain every few seconds from moving around. “Nah, ‘m good.”

Glenn turned to face Daryl, his brows furrowed. “Rick and them are going to raid a pharmacy, they’ll get more. You’re not robbing anyone of anything. If you need some, take some,” Glenn said.

He sounded a lot like Rick right then, knowing of Daryl’s emotions and saying some logical shit. Daryl sighed, nodding. Glenn held up a bottle and tipped one pill into Daryl’s hand when he put it out. Did they know Daryl would need some? The coating tasted nasty as Daryl swallowed it dry. He wanted to hack it up as he felt it drop into his empty stomach. 

Glenn chatted on about whatever, content to just talk at Daryl. It got Daryl’s mind off of his rolling stomach and sweaty palms. Maggie came back and they talked to each other. Daryl hummed a few times and gave short answers if asked anything, he was more than happy to listen. Daryl had woken up at mid-day and it was now dusk. Daryl had to continuously remind himself that no, Rick didn’t leave him and yes, Rick is fine.

Daryl’s pretty quiet, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have opinions; he actually has  _ plenty _ . He’s decided he likes Maggie and Glenn. Maggie reminds Daryl of a girl that was at Daryl’s school when he was younger. Daryl didn’t have any friends from his time of being in school, most stayed away from him. He didn’t exactly look like the kindest kid out there, always scowling with his arms pressed close to his body. He didn’t necessarily get picked on (not after he beat the shit out of a kid), but his peers always kept him far away. That in itself was worse in his opinion. But then again, he wasn’t portraying himself as one who wanted to talk. That girl, Daryl had never learned her name, smiled at him every single day. It made Daryl’s day and that was pathetic. He doesn’t want to think about that anymore really.

Glenn ran into the mess hall and came back out with three plates of food, one in his left hand and another in his right, the third was precariously balancing on his left forearm. Daryl wasn’t hungry and he didn’t eat the offered food (mashed potatoes (it looked like that powder stuff), carrots, and venison that was left over from one of Daryl’s last hunts). Maggie and Glenn were chowing down as the gate squeaked open. Daryl’s eyes shot to the gate as two cars rolled in. Daryl felt overwhelming excitement, but he squashed that quickly because that's  _ pathetic, pathetic, pathetic _ .

Glenn opened the second gate for the cars, closing it behind them. Rick stepped out of the first car, smiling, looking more cheerful than a man should in the apocalypse. But Rick was happy and that's what mattered. His eyes found Daryl and he walked over, sighing. It wasn’t an annoyed sigh, Daryl can identify those just fine, but it was more. . . Affectionate? Is that the word for it?

“Daryl,” Rick sighed, “I told you to rest and heal.”

“I am, jus’ so happens ‘m outside,” Daryl said back. “‘M bein’ babysat by Maggie and Glenn anyways.”

Rick sent the two aforementioned people a thankful look.

“Do you think you take inventory or do you need my help?”, Rick asked.

Maggie waved at him and Glenn smiled.

“We’ve got this.” Maggie turned and said, “‘ight, let’s see what y’all got.”

Tyreese and Sasha looked exhausted, their hands were shaking and their knees looked like they were going to give out at any moment. They wouldn’t be good to anyone dead on their feet. 

Daryl pulled on Rick’s arm. “They look half dead,” he said while thrusting a thumb at the two.

Rick nodded, humming. “How about we get them out of here and to a bunk?”

They took no convincing, they just tiredly nodded and followed Rick and Daryl. Rick was supporting Daryl with an arm around his waist and one of Daryl’s arms slung over his shoulder.

“Don’t need cha’ ta’ help me along,” Daryl mumbled.

Rick smiled. “No, but I want to. Also got a present for you.”

_ Huh, ‘scuse me _ ?

Rick pulled out a small bracelet. It was just a chain with a small moon on it, nothing flashy. One, Daryl is very confused, a  _ present _ ?  _ Is that what people do _ ? And two, he didn’t expect a bracelet. He doesn’t know whether to cry or hug Rick and he doesn’t want to do both and look extra weak. So he just silently took down his hand from Rick’s shoulder and held it out. Rick undid the clasp and hurriedly clipped it on the other side of the chain before it slipped. It had a nice weight to it, even though it was small. It was small enough to not be really noticeable, but heavy enough for Daryl to know it’s there.

Rick sent him a questioning look, asking him if he liked it silently. Daryl nodded. It wasn’t something practical, and he’s kind of confused because he hasn’t ever really had any personal artifacts. He was just looking at it and holding it like an idiot until Rick took him by his arm and started pulling him along. Sasha and Tyresse were still behind them, looking at each other kind of confused. Rick took them through the halls, having already memorized it, and knocked on the bars leading to the cell block. Beth popped out from the side with Judith in her arms and the ring of keys. She unblocked the door for them and Rick gave Judith like a drive-by kiss. The little baby giggled. Daryl ruffled the small hairs on her head gently. Carl was cleaning a gun on one of the tables, a manual sitting next to him that he kept looking at.

“Those are looking great,” Rick said.

Carl hummed and shoved the magazine back into the gun, not looking at Rick.

_ What a little shit _ .

Rick nodded a bit and looked at Daryl before dragging him away again. They went into Rick’s cell and  _ yes, cozy mattress _ . Daryl threw himself (gently) on it and sighed. Rick peeled off his sweaty, slightly bloodstained shirt and tossed it in a basket and shucked his equally as gross pants. Rick unlaced Daryl’s boots and took them off, he didn’t have socks on and Rick glared at him for that. He was already getting blisters on his heels.

“Stay off of your damn feet for a bit, now you have two reasons. Wear socks too.”

Daryl scoffed. “Don’t hurt none, didn’t even break the skin.”

Rick huffed at him, inspecting the blisters before moving to Daryl’s pants. 

_ Whua-oh _ .

Daryl held Rick’s wrists and pursed his lips. He needs to  _ really  _ start wearing underwear because this is bullshit. Rick cocked his head and Daryl made a sound, letting go of Rick’s wrists.

“Uh. I don’t wear. . . Don’t got any. . .” Daryl stuttered.

Daryl could see the cogs working in Rick’s head and when Rick got it, it looked like a lightbulb went off.

“Ah, yeah. That’s fine. I don’t care. Unless you do, you can borrow one of mine.”

Daryl put an arm over his face and shoved his face into it. Goddamn Rick and him being accommodating. Daryl doesn’t think he could keep it down if he went naked, so borrowing it is. Daryl just nodded and held out his hand like that was an answer, arm still over his face. Rick got it though, of course he did, and handed him a soft pair of underwear. Huh, this  _ is  _ soft. It feels expensive. 

When Daryl was young, he only had some cheap stuff. They were itchy and would fall apart after wearing them a couple of times. He had decided long ago that he would rather have his dick chafing against a zipper than wear those. Now it’s just habit. Underwear isn’t important anyways, it won’t keep you that warm and it won’t kill a walker (or human) coming at you.

Now Daryl is taking that back; underwear is needed now that Rick’s in the picture.

Rick turned around and covered his eyes (God bless this fucker), waiting for Daryl to get comfortable. This is utter  _ bullshit _ ! Why is Daryl so worried? Rick has already been around him naked! Daryl does know why his so worried, he knows why, but he doesn’t get it  _ why the fuck is he still worried _ ? 

“Can turn around now,” Daryl said, settling back on the pillows, stiff like a board. 

Rick cocked his head, crawling in next to Daryl. “Why are you so tense?”

“You mean other than the apocalypse?” Rick laughed and Daryl felt proud,  _ he _ made that happen,  _ he  _ made Rick laugh. “I dunno. Like, I know, but I dunno. . . Ya’ know?”

Rick nodded slowly. “We should talk about it. If we’re gonna be together, I’d like to know where the boundaries are. I’ll go first if it makes you feel better?”

This was like a- what? Feelings talk? That feels like an appropriate title. Rick laid on his side and looked Daryl in the face. This always made Daryl feel like something bad was going to happen, but he maintained eye contact no matter how much it hurt.

“I don’t like biting, it’s never sounded good and now I  _ especially  _ don’t like it. Now you go.”

“Uh- don’t like belts that much,” Daryl mumbled.

“Why?”, Rick asked, still watching Daryl.

“‘S what. . . ‘S what Pa liked ta’. . .” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, how  _ pathetic _ .

Rick took Daryl’s hand in his and placed it between them, squeezing gently. 

“I don’t like birds, always look like they’re up to something.” Daryl laughed and Rick looked mock-offended. “How dare you, this is serious!”

Daryl shook his head and reeled his laughter in. “Okay, okay. Mhf, don’t like loud places, ‘s too loud. ‘N people, don’t like people.”

Rick nodded and looked like he was absorbing every little piece of information he could.

“I’ll give you two because you did. Someone standing over me, I hate it and fish. I’ll eat fish but I hate when they’re whole.”

Daryl grinned. “I’ll take ya’ fishin’ with Carl n’ I can gut ‘em fer’ y’all.”

Rick smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think I could ever stomach gutting anything. My dad would always take us on these fishing trips and he would throw fish at me when he caught them. Not the craziest thing ever, but it definitely scared me. Please don’t throw fish at me.”

“Promise I won’t throw fish at ya’.”

Rick yawned. “Alright, I’ll share one then you share one and then we go to bed, deal?” Daryl nodded and Rick continued, “I hate being called Richard or Ricky, absolutely will snap your legs if you call me that.”

Dary snorted. “Got it. Don’t like my back. Don’t really like anythin’ really fer’  _ obvious reasons _ ,” Daryl mumbled.

Rick guided Daryl’s head to his chest and buried his face in Daryl’s hair. “I’ll keep that in mind. We’re goin’ as fast as you want. Don’t wanna force you to do anything, okay?”

Daryl nodded. He knew Rick wouldn’t do that, he’s probably just worried Daryl wouldn’t say no. Daryl’s very comfortable with Rick right now, he’s not scared of the aspect of sex with Rick. But he  _ is  _ scared of being vulnerable, he’s scared of rejection. If Rick was going to use Daryl ( _ theoretically _ ), he would have done it already, right? He wouldn’t have bothered with all of this comforting, he wouldn’t have bothered with getting to know Daryl. Daryl has to put his trust in another person, but that’s so hard.

Rick shifted slightly. “Go to sleep now. Tomorrow you’re getting looked at by Dr. S and Hershal, I’ll be with you and we’ll be right in here.”

“Okay.”

Yeah, that's okay, Rick will be with him, it’s okay. It’s not like he’ll be forced to stay in bed until he’s healed, right?  **Right** ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .: CHAPTER WARNING: very brief talk about past child abuse. (Wanted to be safe even though it's extremely brief and close to not even hardly being touched on)
> 
> Chapter commnet that I thought was really funny:  
> "Daryl has to put his trust in another person, but that’s so hard."   
> "That's so hard" is highlighted and I wrote, "just like this C O C K."
> 
> I'm fucking hilarious.
> 
> I have ideas as I've been saying for the past forever, but they're far in the future and I can't put them in yet because the story isn't there yet. I might start working towards smut, who knows? I like linear stories*, they're just more full and real to me. I like me some realism, even if this will have a healthy dose of fanfiction magic. That's one thing I didn't like about season 3-season 4, there was a canonical six month gap between seasons and we got to see no cool down period, it just went right into action. I wanted to see them be content for a little bit man!😫
> 
> Not sure about recent episodes of course, I've kind of stopped watching. I do know what's going on though. We'll see how I deal with this I guess. Think I'll just try to get as much character interaction as I can. We also still have the Governor, Shane, and Ed to deal with so oop-
> 
> I'm sick by the way, tired, sick, and stressed. I just started semester two of my school year and I'm already done with life. That was real quick.


	32. Hellooooooo Bed!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl stays in bed. Pretty much it. Declarations of love happen too. 😚

The fuckers did it, they fucking told him to stay in bed.

Daryl was two seconds away from ripping the doctor some new balls. The doctor seemed to know this and retreated to the opposite side of the cell as Daryl was practically dragged to Rick’s cell. Rick has made it his duty to get Daryl to stay in bed and is now off of the counsel for the time being. The counsel consists of Rick, Shane, Hershel, Glenn, Maggie, Andrea, and Ed. Daryl has been invited to these meetings by not only Rick, but Hershel and Glenn too. When Glenn was blabbing yesterday, he quickly glossed over saying that it would be good if Daryl joined a meeting, probably to make sure Daryl didn’t have enough time to talk back.

Daryl’s considering it, but now he can’t because he’s on fucking _ bedrest _ . He got shot before and he didn’t have to go on bedrest for that and he was shot in the leg. Rick is sitting up on his bed with Daryl in between his legs, scowling like a petulant child. Rick brushed Daryl’s hair out of his eyes and Daryl huffed, snapping his head to the side.

“Silent treatment?" Rick questioned. He didn’t get an answer. “Okay, we can just sit here in silence until you heal then.”

It took a minute for Daryl to get uncomfortable and look behind him at Rick who had a very amused smile on his face. Daryl huffed.

“So, do you understand why I’m making you go on bedrest yet?”

Now Rick was just being a smartass. It’s not a good look.

“Fuck off,” Daryl gumbled.

Rick didn’t take it to heart and just smiled.

“It’s good to know that you’re not moving around and hurting yourself. It’s making me feel better.”

_Now_ Rick was trying to convince Daryl that it wasn’t that bad. It was working and Daryl hated himself for letting it work. He crossed his arms, huffing once again. If this was making Rick feel better though. . . _Maybe_ , just _maybe_ it isn’t so bad. He had to preface again: it is still horrible and fucking dumb. God, Daryl should be doing something right now, literally anything. He has to show his worth, they’re going to figure out he’s too taxing to take care of, then they’re going to leave him. Rick was rubbing his thumb on Daryl's stomach, both of his hands warming Daryl’s torso. He was looking worriedly at Daryl.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“I’m just worried,” Rick answered.

“‘Bout what?”

“I’m not really sure,” Rick said slowly. “I’m worried about you obviously, about the group, about what's in store for us tomorrow, and about that girl, but I don’t know what’s really making me worried this time if that makes any sense.”

Kind of, not really, but it kind of makes sense.

“Wait, girl? What girl?” Specifically  _ which  _ girl.

“The Governor was holding a girl hostage, remember?” Daryl’s mind’s eye provided him an image of a girl crying big, fat tears with short, dark brown hair. Daryl nodded. “She’s Tara. You saved her life by shooting the Governor’s leg. She had a pretty bad cut on her leg that she said the Governor did. It was infected but it’s clearing up now and she should be able to move with help soon enough. She was with the Governor, she could be dangerous,” Rick explained, running a hand through his hair.

“He fuckin’ stabbed her,” Daryl responded.

“I know, I just can’t help but wonder, ya’ know?”

Daryl hummed and nodded. “If she ain’t done anythin’ yet, wouldn’t judge her too soon.”

Rick nodded slowly. “Yeah. We’ll have a guard watching her for a while, just in case. I was thinkin’ we could start a scouting group five, add another to the rotation to give the others a bit more of a break. How does that sound? Who do you think should be on it?”

_ This is like a mini-meeting, but more relaxed _ . Daryl shifted closer to Rick.  _ And more cozy _ .

“Should put the girl on it, maybe Maggie and Glenn and a Woodbury?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah.” He then grinned. “You’re so sweet, you don’t want to split the lovers.”

Daryl craned around and punched Rick’s chest.

  
  
  


It turns out that no, Rick can’t stay by Daryl’s side twenty-four-seven. There was a build up of walkers on the east side of the fence. Carol ran in to tell Rick and she smiled at them. Daryl shot her a warning look, daring her to say anything. She didn’t, just told Rick and nodded approvingly. Rick left a smooch on Daryl’s cheek and patted his shoulder, saying he’ll be back and that Daryl better stay the fuck down.

Daryl did, he stayed down. He didn’t stop tossing and turning, but he stayed laying down. Rick came back covered in blood and Daryl started to shoot up before Rick shook his head.

“It’s fine, just some were piling up so bad that the fence was starting to bow,” Rick said, holding a hand up. 

“Go take a fuckin’ shower, man.”

Rick laughed. “You? Telling  _ me  _ to take a  _ shower _ ? Wow, thought I’d never see the day.”

Daryl threw their pillow at Rick and Rick caught it, tossing it behind Daryl and collecting his clothes, walking back out with a, “I’ll be back soon.”

Daryl was ragingly bored but that was swiftly dealt with when none other than  _ Shane _ popped his head in. He scowled at Daryl.

“You’re back in here again?” he asked with a hiss.

Daryl nodded, settling back on the nice pillow behind him, adjusting it, making a show of how comfy he was in  _ Rick’s  _ bed.

“Shouldn’t ya’ be doin’ shit for us? Not sitting around being fucking useless?” It didn’t sound like a question, more of a demand.

“Probably, I’s gotta heal first,” Daryl responded, putting his hands on his chest, ready if Shane decided to jump at him.

“Fuckin’- ‘I’s gotta heal,’  _ of course you do _ . If it was me, I’d be providing even  _ if  _ I was shot.”

_ Ow, that hurt _ .

“Can’t, doctor told me not ta’ get up. ‘S law.” He’s not going to drag Rick down, no way. He’s been ready to take the brunt of Shane’s aggression for Rick.

Shane had that air of anger, the one that Pa always had and Merle sometimes had. It’s swirling, dark,  _ dangerous _ .

“You’re turnin’ my brother into a fucking  _ fag _ ,” Shane spat, giving Daryl a once over, narrowing his eyes and looking downright discusted before whiping around and stomping out.

Once he knew Shane was gone, Daryl breathed. And then he shook. Then cried quietly, listening for Rick or, God save him, Shane possibly coming back. Daryl breathed in and out slowly, trying to get a hold of his emotions. He can’t be loud, Rick’ll be worried if he’s coming back.

_ Was Shane right _ ?

Daryl jumped at that thought. Rick said he’s bisexual and always has been, Daryl isn’t turning him gay or anything, Rick’s known long before he even knew Daryl. Shane’s known Rick forever though, he knows Rick better than Daryl does. Was Daryl almost  _ corrupting Rick or something _ ? Daryl’s head ached and he pressed a hand to his forehead, he was flushed, probably from the tears.

Daryl hurriedly wiped his face off as he heard Rick coming back. Daryl was able to wipe off the tears, but not the red, puffiness of his eyes, and Rick noticed. He cocked his head, coming over to sit gently next to Daryl, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked.

_ Communication. Common, Daryl, communicate, even half-assed will work _ , he told himself.

“Come’ere,” Daryl said, patting the small space next to him. 

Daryl desperately needs Rick to be next to him. Rick nodded, laying down on his side and looking at Daryl worriedly.

“Don’t say anythin’, promise me.”

Rick looked even more worried now.

“Daryl, I can’t promise-”

“Do it,” Daryl interrupted. “Please.”

Rick nodded and took Daryl’s hand. The contact was more than appreciated on both ends.

“Yeah, okay. I promise.”

“So’s, ya’ left ‘n I was bored. Horribly bored, ya’ know? ‘Parently the gods heard me ‘n decided ta’ rain hell down,” Rick snorted, “Shane gone ‘n poked his head in ‘n said some stuff. ‘S fine, wasn’t anythin’.”

Rick shook his head. “It definitely was if it had you crying. What did he say?”

Daryl shuffled closer to Rick, avoiding eye contact as he bit his thumb nail.

“Jus’ some bullshit.”

“Daryl,” Rick said, not giving up on getting an answer.

“Said I was goin’ ‘n turnin’ ya’ inta’ a fuckin’ fag! Yea’?” Daryl practically shouted, making Rick shush him.

“Hey, Daryl,  _ hey _ . It’s okay, you’re not  _ turning _ me into anything. Honestly, the only thing you are turning me into is a better, more happy person. Why would you believe him?” Rick asked.

“He’s known ya’ longer, knows ya’ better than I ever can.”

Rick shook his head, smiling. “No, you know me better. Me and him? We’ve been far apart for so long now. I’ve changed, he’s changed. For me, he’s almost a stranger.”

“‘M sorry, just got me thinkin’ ‘bout. . . That ‘m not good fer’ ya’,” Daryl elaborated further, putting his face in Rick’s chest because it’s safe, it’s safe there.

“You  _ are _ good for me, you make me happy, you make me stronger, you make me smile and laugh in a time like this, that’s  _ damn  _ special,” Rick said, holding the back of Daryl’s head and running his hands through his hair. “You’re not making me weak or bringing me down. Even before we were together, when you got taken by the Governor, I was broken up about you not being with us. I yelled at Michonne, I was angry.”

Daryl tentatively wrapped his arms around Rick’s torso, slipping his right under to clutch the back of Rick’s shirt. His side ached from he position, but he didn’t care.

“Don’t like Shane,” Daryl mumbled.

Rick hummed. “He’s getting a bit. . . Weird. I don’t know how to explain it simply, but after I found out about Lori and him, he’s just been aggressive. More than usual, he’s always been aggressive, but not with me, not ever.”

Daryl squeezed Rick, trying to reassure him.

“Lori said it’ll pass. Better fuckin’ pass, dunno if I can survive another one’a his damn looks. He looks like he wants to invert my dick.”

Rick snorted and shook his head, burying his face in Daryl’s hair.

“I wouldn’t ever want anyone except you,” Rick reminded Daryl.

Even though Daryl was strung on nerves, he still found his eyes drooping and his breathing evening. Rick was still idly chatting about the Woodbury residents and food as Daryl fell asleep.

  
  


When he woke up, someone was talking. Rick answered their question with a, “yeah.”

Daryl’s lids felt heavy and his eyes felt scratchy. The girl (Tara?) was sitting on the floor across the cell from them. She noticed Daryl was awake and waved.

“Hi.”

Rick looked down at Daryl and smiled.

“Yeah, hi, thought you would sleep forever,” Rick greeted, brushing Daryl’s hair out of his eyes.

“How long?”

“About one and a half days. You woke up to go to the bathroom and eat a bit, but you were out of it.”

Daryl rubbed his eyes, sniffing. “Don’t remember wakin’ up.”

“Didn’t expect you to. You didn’t even wake up when I got up and came back a few times. Here, drink.” He handed Daryl a water bottle that was sitting on the floor.

When Daryl drank, his eyes got less scratchy and filled with water. His stomach rumbled.

“What time is it?” Daryl asked.

“In the afternoon,” Tara answered for Rick.

Daryl looked at her suspiciously. 

“I. . . I’ll go get you some lunch,” Tara stuttered, getting up and looking at Rick for the okay.

Rick nodded at her and she limped out.

“She’s scared right now, go easy on her. She just lost her family from the Governor and nearly got killed herself. She’s still healing and being watched. I would have gone somewhere else to talk to her, but you grabbed me before I could get up.”

Daryl blushed an impressive scarlet.

“Sorry.”

“No, it was cute.” Rick shook his head, looking amused. “Tara’s a good person, be gentle with her for now.”

“What’d ya’ get that from? Yer’ magical cop intuition?” Daryl asked.

“Yes, yes I did. I’m expecting you’ll form your own observations as well, so if you see anything, please tell me.”

Daryl nodded and a few seconds later, Tara came in with an impressively filled plate. Mash potatoes (again), soup (tastes like Campbells chicken noodle), and cooked carrots. It’s too good for Daryl, the soup would have been enough.

“Carol was adamant I got you more,” Tara said, passing the plate to Daryl.

Daryl used Rick’s chest as a table because of course. The plate wasn’t that hot, everything was cool enough to not burn.

“I’ll have to give Carol my thanks, he never eats,” Rick said to Tara as if Daryl wasn’t there.

Daryl scoffed, “other people need it more than me.”

“Who?” Rick asked, hoping to be proven right.

“The kids,” Daryl answered. “I make my  _ own  _ choices, Rick.”

“Mhm, that you do.”

Tara and Rick were talking about the Governor as Daryl ate. He would never admit it, but having a full stomach was nice. Rick was asking what Tara would like to happen and telling her what the others wanted. Majority would rule, but Rick probably wanted Tara to feel like she had a say. She looked grateful.

“I don’t want to really. . . Kill him, but I do. I know he won’t like, come up from the dead as he is now, but I’m scared,” she said. “He- he got my family. I want to do the same to him but I feel like I can’t.”

_ Manipulation _ , Daryl thought immediately,  _ that sounds like she was manipulated _ .

Daryl watched her closely. She shifted, she picked at her nails, she looked at the floor, she held her legs close to her chest. Definitely nervous.

“You don’t have to, I will. The counsel has agreed to let me,” Rick said and  _ no, that would break him _ .

“Rick, no, don’t,” Daryl said quickly.

“Why?” Rick asked.

“Killin’ ain’t no small thing, ‘s a big change.”

Rick nodded. “I know, I’m ready.”

“Can’t ever be ready fer’ that, ya’ won’t be.”

Rick narrowed his eyes, not judgemental, but knowing.

_ This is coming from experience, right _ ?

_ Yer’ damn right it is _ .

Rick sighed, not pressing any further. Wait, what? Rick seemed to know what Daryl was saying, but he wasn’t. . . Ever. . . Talking? The dead are walking, Daryl and Rick can communicate via looks, people are going crazy, what’s next? Aliens? 

“It’s my duty as a leader, Daryl,” Rick said (out loud this time).

“Don’t gotta carry all’a that on yer’ own.” 

Daryl really didn’t want Rick to lose himself, but even he could tell that nothing would change Rick’s mind. Rick is dangerous, menacing, and downright murderous, but oh so majestic. Rick has a beautiful type of danger, the type that only comes out when necessary, the type that stays safely away in a deep sleep until it’s needed. Daryl is glad to call Rick his boyfriend? Lover? Something more?

Rick let out a puff, like an animal that just won a fight, and returned to talking to Tara while Daryl worked on his potatoes. Daryl wasn’t going to let Rick be alone in there with the Governor, he doesn’t give a shit how he gets there, someone could carry him for all he cares, but he would be there, right by Rick’s side. 

Rick said he had killed people,  _ bad _ people, before on the job, but even then he was probably fucked up for a while. Maybe if Rick isn’t alone, it won’t be so hard?

Tara jumped up but winced slightly as she put too much weight on her leg. She said bye to Rick and held up her fist to Daryl. Hell no, he’s not going to touch someone that he doesn’t know! Rick didn’t leave her hanging. She smiled brightly at him and left for the second time, hopefully not to return for a while.

“Did you pick anything bad up, Human Lie Detector?” Rick asked Daryl.

Daryl glared at him for the name. He’s not a human lie detector, he just can read people pretty well.

“Nah, nothin’ bad,” Daryl replied, shuffling through the cooked carrots. “Sounds like she was manipulated. Thinkin’ that the Governor will always find her, even when the fuckers long gone.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah, sounded like it. How’s your side doing?”

Dropping that subject apparently. “‘S fine. ‘S not hurtin’ as bad.”

“Good news, when you were asleep, Dr. S dropped by. He said he could remove the stitches soon, bad news is that you can walk around.”

Daryl raised his brow.

“That’s bad news why?”

“Because you can hurt yourself. You’ll have to go slow. You need to walk around, but not all day, only for a few hours at a time. If you want to, you can come to a council meeting. Try it out?”

That sounded. . . Good. Yeah, that sounds good. Daryl nodded, humming. It would be awfully nice to know what’s going on. It would be terrifying to have a decision in big things, though, he’ll just stay quiet. 

“Daryl, don’t run away, okay?” Rick said. Daryl narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion. “I just want to say that I love you. I know words don’t mean as much as actions, especially to you, but I just wanted to say it.”

Daryl froze, the ‘I love you’ kept on repeating in his head. He wasn’t going to run, he wasn’t gonna, definitely not after Rick’s admission. 

“You can’t,” was what Daryl blurted out.

_ “You can’t” _ ?  _ That’s the best you can fucking do _ ?!

“You can’t decide that for me, no one can, not even myself,” Rick said.

Daryl held Rick’s hand to let him know he wasn’t going to run. Rick squeezed his hand.

“I love you. You don’t have to say it back, you don’t ever have to, but I wanted to say it. I wanted to make sure you really knew.”

Daryl linked his arms around Rick’s neck and shoved his face under Rick’s chin, just breathing Rick in. He kissed Rick’s neck, mouthing at Rick’s jaw before moving up to his mouth, planting a small kiss there. Rick  _ loved him _ , Rick  _ loved  _ **_him_ ** . Rick hugged him and smiled on Daryl’s lips, mouth opening to deepen it. This was nice, very nice. Daryl didn’t really move too much, he just followed what Rick was doing, tilting his head, moving his tongue, caressing the nape of Rick’s neck.

Rick grinned at Daryl with bright, alive eyes. Very, very alive.

“You have a beard burn right here,” Rick observed, touching Daryl’s red, warm chin.

Daryl snorted, settling down at Rick’s side, stumbling over Rick’s stomach to his left so he wouldn’t lay on his wound.

“‘S fine. Ya’ know, ‘s the same fer’ me. Dunno if I can say it, but it’s the same.”

Rick’s smile could light up the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running out of fillers O~O
> 
> I'm a gamer, idk if I've established that yet. I play a lot of survival games and story games (The Long Dark, Subnautica, Minecraft (of course), Death Stranding (actually how I found out who Norman was, didn't know he was in TWD and I just got done with DS and came over to TWD and freaked the fuck out (I loved Daryl even before I knew what his face looked like and my mind exploded)), and the Don't Starve games), I have VR and I've played a lot of The Walking Dead Onslaught, it's awesome. I have figured out I am really bad with crossbows and shotguns (which is impressive). It's made me love Daryl even more I swear-
> 
> Helloooo Tara!
> 
> I also have decided to put the Mega List of Canon Divergences in so here you go (it's getting real fucking long now)
> 
> 1\. at the beginning, everyone survived the walker attack at the quarry BESIDES for Jim. Ed, Amy, and whoever the fuck else lived EXCEPT for Jim, he still got bit and left on the side of the road.
> 
> 2\. It's specified in chapter 24 how Merle died. He get high and wandered out into the woods, getting bit on the wrist Lee Everitt style and Daryl hacked it off, trying to save him. There was a herd around them and Merle told Daryl to run, he knew he was going to die by bleeding out.
> 
> 3\. Merle and Daryl survived alone, they had never met the survivors, then Merle died, then Daryl met them a few months later.
> 
> 4\. Out of Hershel's family, only himself, Maggie, and Beth made it, idk if anyone else did canonically and I'm much too lazy to go back and look.
> 
> 5\. Sophia's alive, no fucking shit.
> 
> 6\. Lori came out and told Rick she and Shane are fucking, it started before the walkers and Rick's honestly kinda okay with that, their marriage was falling apart (just like in canon) already so yeah.
> 
> 7\. Rick's bi and Daryl's gay, just. . . Yeah. That's it.
> 
> 8\. They aren't going to spend this coming winter out on the road, they're already at the prison (riveting stuff)
> 
> 9\. Daryl's backstory is a bit changed for how I view him to be in this story, most things are added and I bet a few things are taken out.
> 
> 10\. Woodbury's already fallen! It's fallen quicker than it did in cannon and less people have died. When they went to get Maggie and Glenn they didn't kill anyone.
> 
> 11\. Everyone's still pretty pure, no one's really killed anyone. No one's really died so no one is desensitized nor are they depressed (they're depressed alright, but not because anyone's died)
> 
> 12\. Page 24 is when the kissy kissy happens. That's an obvious canon divergence ajdfnvnfnf-
> 
> 13\. Daryl gets shot in the side instead of getting a bolt in his side in part 27
> 
> 14\. Rick doesn't kill the Governor immediately in part 27
> 
> 15\. Daryl is embarrassed by his dick because I liked that in my Rickyl Crack Taken Seriously. It's not a direct canon divergence, Daryl's dick size has never been disclosed 🤷♀️
> 
> 16\. People die at different times than in cannon  
> Jacqui- bitten while Daryl tried to open the door of the boiler room part 15  
> T-Dog- shot by the Governor part 27  
> Dale- shot by the Governor part 27
> 
> 17\. Michonne was fucking the Governor and he killed Andre and Mike. Talked about in chapter 29
> 
> 18\. Shane is more outwardly aggressive then in the show
> 
> 19\. Rick is very obviously not going coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs
> 
> 20\. There are more people in the Prison then the show! I picture there being around forty-five people (including the main group (including Tara, Tyreese, and Sasha))


	33. RICK! RICK GET BACK HERE PLZ!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl cri. :'(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Warnings in the end notes~

Daryl wanted the Governor to squeal like a pig, he wanted to gut the man. Daryl wanted to rip out all of his nails one at a time, pressing salt and ice into the wounds afterwards. But that would make him no better than the Governor himself. So here him and Rick were, standing side by side. It’s so natural, so comfortable.

“Are you here to kill me? How will you do it, I wonder?” the Governor questioned.

Rick held up a knife. “Not wasting bullets on you. It’ll be quick, not special, not torturous, not painful. We’re better than you.”

The Governor opened his mouth to taunt, but Daryl interrupted him. “Ya’ won’t kill another kid again, Phillip. Ya’ won’t ruin another life.”

The Governor’s mouth shut with an audible clank. Daryl hated that the Governor had a name, it felt like poison on Daryl’s tongue, burning through. Rick moved in and bent down, hissing something quietly at the Governor and before he could answer, Rick thrust the blade into the junction between the Governor’s neck and the base of his skull. He died. He’s fucking  _ dead _ .

Rick slowly rose, looking at the blade before sneering, flipping around to stomp past Daryl.

_ No. No, no, no, no, no, no RICK _ !

Rick didn’t turn at any of Daryl’s calls.

  
  


Daryl cried. He cried in Rick’s cell all day, holding Rick’s pillow and breathing his scent in. A reminder that Rick exists. He didn’t even stop when Tara came in with breakfast. Nor when Carol came in with lunch, or when Tara, Maggie,  _ and _ Carol came in with dinner. Rick didn’t come back that night, or the next, or the next, or the next and so on. Days mixed and swirled together, forming abstract shapes and rough lines. Daryl cried until he was exhausted or stared into the white of Rick’s pillow until his eyelids drooped.

He got his stitches taken out one day, he gave no struggle. The doctor (Dr. C? Dr. G? Dr. N? Dr. M?) said something about moving around and eating, Daryl didn’t listen.

Carol, Tara, Glenn and Maggie, Beth with Lori, Judith, Carl, and Sophia, Michonne, Hershel, even Andrea and Amy all came in. Sasha, Tyreese, Allen, and Ben visited a few times, Sasha and Tyreese came more than Allen and Ben by a long shot, but it seemed like they were more asked to babysit Daryl. They all talked around him, sometimes to him but they never got an answer. Sometimes he would be crying, sometimes not, sometimes he would be pulling at his hair thinking  _ it’s my fault, it’s my fucking fault, I knew, I knew, I should have stopped him, I knew _ . Daryl wants Rick and only Rick.

One time, he stayed up five nights (was it five?) in a row. He was really loopy, crying and punching out at anything that got close. Another time, he was curled up on Carol’s lap as she pet his hair and talked to Lori, Maggie, and Glenn. She tried it again the next day and it didn’t turn out so well, he was kicking and everyone had to leave because of the safety issue for both himself and them.

He heard them taking on the catwalk outside of Rick’s cell. Glenn had gone to try and get Rick back, saying that he found Rick drenched in blood in the dark halls of the prison in the far back. He explained that Rick had punched him and pinned him to a wall by his neck when Maggie asked (ask is a soft word for it) about his bruised cheek and the handprint bruise on his throat. He said he didn’t blame Rick, he looked, “like he wasn’t there. It was scary.”

Daryl ate, just a little bit, but Lori had told the others like it was amazing.

Days didn’t line up, they were all blurry and mixed around. If it had truly been a few weeks as Beth said, Daryl would have starved to death and dehydrated about three times over.

The people today were Michonne, Carol, Hershel, Andrea and Amy. They gently, almost warily, placed Judith down next to Daryl. Daryl had wrapped an arm around her and covered her with his blanket before he even knew what he was doing. Hershel said something about scars, hurt, touch, and family.

His joints decided to start working today. He was able to take off his pants and shirt. Glenn had a huge smile on his face.

He doesn’t remember what happened yesterday, but he remembers seeing Michonne once in the flurry of faces, and Carol, and Judy and Carl and Lori and Glenn and Maggie. He saw pretty much everyone. Blue eyes, haunted and worried, dark hair looking almost slicked back, thin torso, warm hands, knowing hands, the smell of days old blood and sweat that was washed away but  _ not quite enough _ . Like the shower was a last moment thing. Like it could hardly be called a shower and was more a ‘dip’.

When Daryl woke up, he wasn’t met with the usual white with the fading smell of Rick.

_ Skin, lightly tanned, with a gray shirt _ .

Daryl slowly shifted, looking up. Rick. Rick. He was sleeping. It’s not a dream, too real. Much too real. Daryl watched Rick, watched the little facial expressions he made, studied each twitch of his face. Blue eyes opened groggily and looked down at Daryl.

“I’m sorry,” Rick said, squeezing Daryl close. “You were right, you were right, I wasn’t ready. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

Daryl hugged him back. Daryl wasn’t mad, he wasn’t at all, he just felt relieved, so relieved that Rick wasn’t dead.

“I didn’t listen, ’m sorry, ‘m so sorry, Daryl.”

Rick buried his face in Daryl’s hair, curling in. Daryl let him, of course he did. 

_ Rick’s back, he’s back, he’s back, he’s back _ ! Daryl was like a dog when it’s owner comes home.

Rick was repeating himself, stuck in a loop of saying that Daryl was right and that he was sorry. Daryl didn’t say anything, he didn’t move, he just let Rick apologize over and over and over again.

“I left you,” Rick said, choking on his own spit as he hyperventilated. “I left you and you could have died and I could have never seen you again. I could have left you like that. I hurt Glenn, oh God, I hurt Glenn.”

Rick was crying now, taking gulping breaths as his chest snapped up and down in, uneven and patternless. Daryl finally spoke, voice scratchy.

“‘S okay, yer’ back, ‘s okay,” Daryl tried to sooth Rick. “‘M not mad, yer’ back, ya’ didn’t leave.”

_ Comforting skills off the charts _ .

It seemed to work, Rick took deeper breaths, slower and more even.

“Glenn’s okay. He’s not mad, worried, but not mad.”

Rick’s form shook as he took one final deep breath.

“You’re. . . You’re hungry, and thirsty, yeah?” Rick asked, already getting up. “I’ll get food and water.”

And he was gone, putting on his shoes mechanically and leaving his cell. 

_ He’ll be back, he’ll be back, he’ll be back, he’ll be back, he’ll be back, he’ll be back, he’ll be back. _

Daryl put on his shirt that had been shoved with his pants at the foot of the bed, shrugging it on. Rick wasn’t okay- neither was Daryl to be honest- but Daryl is  _ much  _ better than Rick is. Daryl’s worried about Rick leaning too heavily emotionally on their relationship, his automatic response to panicking was to take care of Daryl and in extension himself because Daryl was going to feed and water Rick even if he had to shove it down his throat.

Rick came back in and toed off his shoes, looking down at the floor all the while. Rick laid down next to Daryl, somehow balancing the food on the plate and not spilling any. Daryl didn’t care about the food, though. He held up a stale piece of bread to Rick’s mouth.

“Eat,” Daryl said. “You haven’t.”

Rick ate the food without a fuss which was worrying. He didn’t smile, he didn’t make any jokes, he didn’t say anything. He just chewed and swallowed the food that Daryl gave him slowly. Daryl gave him water too, and he drank it. Rick then fell asleep. This was worrying, this was really, really, worrying (no shit).

Daryl stayed snuggled up on Rick’s chest, staring into the wall. Maybe if he stared long enough a hole will be burned?

Maggie and Glenn came in. The bruises on Glenn’s face and neck were fading quickly, now they were hardly visible. They dropped off more water and smiled at Daryl, tip toeing back out. Daryl watched the door for a while, lost in thought before he turned back to watching Rick sleep.

Rick looked so calm, so serene. Hopefully he’s in a nice place instead of here. Maybe he’s dreaming about white picket fences and giggling children? Hopefully so. Daryl would  _ much _ rather have Rick dream about that than the world ending right in front of their eyes.

Rick twitched once but didn’t move for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .:Warnings: dissociation, death, I think Daryl crying is a warning of it's own:.
> 
> This is depressing holy shit. It made a life of its own omg-
> 
> ✔ Daryl dissociating and crying for a long time
> 
> ✔ Rick is having issues
> 
> ✔ My ass hurts
> 
> ✔ Glenn and Maggie are great
> 
> ✔ Carol's great
> 
> ✔ So's Lori and the rest of the gang
> 
> ✔ Rick needs help right fucking now
> 
> I've never talked about my Tumblr lol
> 
> If you have questions or you just wanna talk, I have a Tumblr, its art-abomination. I post art sometimes. If you have questions about this story, common over an ask! I take drawing requests too, they're free and not that good but if you want some I mean 👀
> 
> Update on the other Rickyl story I'm working on: it's going well! I have twenty pages so far 👍


	34. No Good Without the Bad and no Bad Without the Good, 'm I Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omfg why-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags. :)
> 
> Warnings at the end notes

The last three months, it was going so well. It was going _too_ well. Daryl should have known, he should have expected this. Of course, now, he couldn’t dwell, he couldn’t _mourn_ , they had to keep on moving.

Left foot, right foot, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.

  
  


It was good, everything was going good. Daryl was hopeful, Rick was hopeful, so was everyone else. They were sinking into comfort and contentment. Rick was lucid, so today would be a ‘Talk About Your Feelings’ day. Rick knew this and rolled his eyes when Daryl gave him breakfast in bed. Rick would take care of his flourishing plant beds that Glenn had put together for Rick when he was still silent and (mostly) unmoving and then they would talk. Rick felt like he owed Glenn so much, so he said Glenn and Maggie could have the first pick for what they wanted once the plants were grown. Glenn was ecstatic.

Daryl sat with Rick as he gardened, trimming leaves, checking on the growing plants before he nodded and put his hands on his hips, smiling the first smile Daryl saw in a while. Daryl latched onto the image. 

“We might have some tomatoes and carrots in a few weeks,” Rick said.

Daryl nodded and stretched, _finally_ able to do that. People were busling down the halls when they went to the mess hall, plates were clanking in sinks and people were talking at their tables. Lori waved and gestured to two empty seats next to Carl at their table, Rick gave her a thumbs up.

Breakfast today was oatmeal with a mix of canned peaches and pears (wow! _Pears_!). They got their plates (Carol is still giving them more, but she’s cutting it down) and went over to Lori’s table. Shane was there, but he had his face buried in his plate, still recovering from the tongue lashing he got from Rick. Shane had tried to mock and intimidate Daryl again when Rick was in his (more or less) mindless state, he had gone to get food and was on his way back. That was not pretty, Shane’s intestines nearly got ripped out.

“Hi, Rick, Daryl, “ Lori greeted with a bright smile on her face.

Everyone was glad to see Rick up and talking. Carl shuffled closer to Rick, laying his head on Rick’s shoulder. Rick pet his head. Rick and Daryl greeted her, Rick with a verbal greeting and Daryl with a nod and a small wave. Rick and Lori started talking about everything, plants, walkers at the fences, the supply teams, everything. Lori wasn’t part of the Counsel, but she was definitely in the loop. 

Once Rick and Daryl finished, they put on their coats (Rick had to wrestle Daryl into one) and went outside to the fences. Rick’s mood was dipping, he knew why they were coming out to the fences. They learned pretty quick that Rick got very angry when talking about his feelings, so they came up with a solution: go out to the fences and let Rick kill the walkers piling up. Win, win. Rick immediately started, picking up a sharpened crowbar and thrusting it into the skull of a walker.

Daryl sat down, back leaning on the inner of the two fences, letting Rick have a second before he asked the question.

“What do you want to talk about today?” Daryl asked. They always asked this question first, it’s best to give Rick power in what they talk about.

“Judith,” Rick answered, ripping the crowbar out of another walker’s head.

“What about Judith?”

“She’s not mine,” Rick said. Another walker.

“Yea’, probably not. Does that matter?” Daryl questioned.

“There’s no ‘ _probably_ ’ about it, _she is not mine_ ,” Rick said, adding emphasis with each word. “Of course it matters! My wife cheated even _before_ she thought I was dead, even _before_ I was shot!” Another walker, it shot back from the force that Rick thrusted the crowbar into it’s head.

Daryl shook his head. “Didn’t mean like that. Does it really matter that she’s not yer’s like, related to y’all’s relationship? She’s not yer’s, does that mean ya’ll leave ‘er?” Daryl asked.

Rick paused before shaking his head. “No. No, of course not, she’s a kid, she’s a baby. Not gonna abandon her, never will.” Rick looked at the ground before looking at Daryl. “I’m not gonna leave Lori or Shane just because they were shitty. Judith is like my- I don’t want to say daughter- but somewhere near that.”

“She’s as much of a daughter ta’ ya’ as she is ta’ the rest of the group,” Daryl said. 

“Including you?” Rick asked, grinning.

“Includin’ me,” Daryl answered, shaking his head at Rick. “Do ya’ have anythin’ else?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know if you want to know, though,” Rick said. He looked embarrassed or maybe even nervous as he went back to taking down the walkers.

Daryl cocked his head. “I can take whatever ya’ got.”

Rick looked Daryl up and down before speaking. He didn’t look at Daryl the entire time. “I’m not pressuring you,” he started slowly, thinking out his words. “I was just wondering about us and the more- uh- physical side of things?”

Daryl had to think about that for a bit before he realized he was super dense. 

“Oh- uh, yea’, _that_.”

RIck quickly amended, “we don’t have to do anything soon or ever to be honest, I was just thinking about it recently. How would we do that?”

Daryl first thought that Rick was asking about how gay sex works, but then he got it.

_Dense count number three_.

“Dunno. Would cha’ ever. . . ?”

This felt like two teens taking about sex insead of two grown, adult men.

“Yeah,” Rick answered. “I think I would? Would you ever. . . ?”

Daryl is laughing, because if not, he’ll probably cry.

“Yea’, yea’ I would.”

Rick snorted and joined in on the laughter. Their time was up as the ex-prisoner group came down to the fences with Andrea and Shane accompanying them.

“Hey, Rick,” Andrea greeted. She waved at Daryl.

“Hey, comin’ to do the fences?” Rick asked, surveying the group.

“Yeah,” Shane said, adjusting his shotgun that was slung over his shoulder.

Rick nodded, handing his crowbar to Tomas. Daryl got up, using the fence to help him. He wiped the snow off his butt. Rick looked like he was getting cold anyways, so going inside would be good. As they were reaching the doors to get inside, Daryl took Rick's hand. Holy _shit_ it felt like he was holding an ice block!

“Soon,” Daryl said. Rick looked confused, cocking his head. “That stuff. . . Physical stuff? Soon?”

Rick smiled wide, nodding. 

“Soon.”

  
  


It turns out that “soon” ment another month. Rick’s time was taken up by integrating back into the Counsel, spending time with Carl (that’s okay), his plants, the Woodbury residents kicking up a fuss about jack-diddly-squat, and general exhaustion. Daryl was nervous, he was being sent out on scouting trips with group five, he was hunting again, everyone seemed to find him very interesting all of the sudden, so he wasn’t ever left alone and that scared him off and into sleeping back alone on his shit mattress. It was just a mess. The physical side of things sounds very alluring though. He isn’t scared of the concept of sex- expecilly not with Rick- but moreso of the implications of what had to be done to actually do the do.

Rick said he would bottom happily, but Daryl was worried he would hurt him or underperform. Then you have Daryl bottoming, he would, like Rick, happily do it, but he’s scared too. What if it hurts? What if he can’t do it for whatever reason? What if Rick doesn’t like it? What if he doesn’t do something right? It was very annoying.

He made up his mind though: tonight was the night, no matter his nerves.

It was late, late enough that all of the Woodbury residents would be asleep, but Daryl knew Rick would still be up. Daryl crept over to Rick’s cell, peeling back the curtain. Just like he thought, Rick was there, reading an agricultural book. He looked up and smiled at Daryl, scooting over to make room.

“Hey, Lover Boy,” Rick said.

Daryl chuckled, lying down next to Rick on his side. Maybe laying down would help? He watched as Rick flipped through the pages of his book slowly for a few quiet minutes. It did the exact opposite of what he expected, Daryl’s nerves only worsened as time went on. Daryl didn’t want to just come out and say that he wanted to fuck. How would he even say that? “Hey Rick, I was thinkin’ ‘bout ya’ fuckin’ mah’ ass and/or me fuckin’ yer’s, com’ere!” _No_.

So Daryl did what Daryl does best, he acted instead of talked. He traced Rick’s collarbone, then up his neck and to his jaw. Rick paused mid-page turn when Daryl made it clear that he had intent with his wandering hands. Rick furrowed his brows and looked at Daryl, studying.

“Don’t wanna get this wrong and assume what I think you’re trying to tell me?” He made it sound like a question.

Daryl nodded, placing kisses on Rick’s neck. This is what people do, right? Rick hummed lowly, closing his eyes with a small smile. It looked so sweet. Daryl took that as an okay to continue. He kissed Rick’s jaw, shifting to slowly climb on top of Rick, giving him time to say no. Rick didn’t say anything, but his eyes popped open and he drank the sight of Daryl straddling his stomach. Rick’s hands skirted up Daryl’s thighs and to his waist, squeezing gently before going under Daryl’s shirt, sticking to his chest. Daryl helped to unbutton his shirt, tossing it to the side somewhere in the dark. He was safe, he’s with Rick.

“You’re gorgeous,” Rick said in a whisper.

Daryl scoffed. “Naw.”

Rick looked genuinely offended and his hands paused on their way to Daryl’s chest.

“Say that again and this fist," Rick held up his fist, "will be planted in your face."

Daryl snorted and Rick pulled him down to kiss him. Daryl lost his grip on Rick's chest though, and his forehead hit Rick's chin. Daryl felt embarrassed, oh so embarrassed. Even though he just fell face first into Rick's face, Rick wasn’t shoving him away or laughing at him. Rick _was_ laughing, but not _at_ Daryl.

"Ow, you dick," Rick hissed with no real heat, flicking Daryl's sore forehead. 

Daryl kissed Rick's neck and that fixed everything. Rick returned a kiss on Daryl's forehead and ran his fingers lightly down Daryl's back, feeling the bumps from the scars and the twitching muscles. He caressed Daryl's butt, squeezing and lightly making circles with his finger.

Daryl snorted, it kind of tickled. Rick patted his ass before pulling his head back from where it was buried in Daryl's nest of hair.

"How far do you want this to go?" he asked, fingers dancing over Daryl's waist.

"All the way, if ya’ wanna," Daryl answered, looking off to the side, nervous.

Rick took Daryl's chin in his hand and studied Daryl's face before he found whatever he was looking for, kissing Daryl's lips. Tongues sliding against each other, not fighting, but equal. Rick gently cupped him through his boxers, the heat from Rick’s hand sent shivers down Daryl’s spine. Rick helped Daryl out of his boxers and Daryl froze while Rick looked at him up and down.

_Augh! Small, small, small, small, small_ -

Rick brought Daryl’s hand up to his face and kissed it like a gentleman.

“You are _damn_ _handsome_.”

Before Daryl could disprove that, Rick grabbed the back of his neck and brought his face down, kissing Daryl softly to shut him up. Rick let go of Daryl and pulled him up onto his chest by his thighs, leaning down to leave a kiss on the head of Daryl's cock. Daryl gasped, leaning back so his hands were resting on Rick's knees. Rick stabilized Daryl's dick with one hand, continuing to pepper kisses as the other traveled up to rub at Daryl's chest.

Daryl let out a small moan, hips twitching before he realized that if he thrusted, Rick would probably choak. Rick pulled back with another kiss on Daryl’s slit.

"We're gonna figure out what you like," Rick said. "How do ya' feel 'bout this?" Rick lightly flicked his nipple.

Daryl cocked his head and waved his hand in a 'so-so' manner. Rick nodded and traced Daryl's muscles that were lightly showing on his stomach. That was good, that was really good. Daryl's stomach twitched and goosebumps followed Rick's hand. Rick racked his hand through Daryl’s pubic hair, circling the base of Daryl’s cock with his finger. Rick rolled Daryl onto his back so he was on top, looking down at Daryl.

“Can I?” Rick asked, finger still circling.

Daryl nodded frantically, he probably looked needy, but Rick just smiled sweetly, spitting into his hand and grabbing Daryl’s dick, stroking.

“How about this?”

Daryl breathed harshly. When did his eyes close? He opened them, watching as his cock kept on peaking out of Rick’s hand as he twisted at the red head. Rick rolled Daryl’s balls in his other hand, looking at Daryl to gauge his reaction. It was _great_ , it was _wonderful_. Rick’s hand slowly dipped further down south, running against Daryl’s taint before inching to his asshole. It twitched a few times involuntarily as Rick rubbed it. It was pretty dry, so Daryl winced and shifted. Rick stopped and reached over Daryl’s shoulder and under the pillow, digging around for a bit before he found lube. Oil based. Daryl looked at Rick.

“‘M obviously safe,” Daryl said. “Won’t be able ta’ use a condom with that anyways.”  
  
Rick looked at the bottle briefly, squiniting, before snorting. “Oh shit. Daryl Dixon, lube extraordinaire.”

Daryl punched Rick’s thigh lightly.

“I’m safe too, haven’t done anything with Lori for years,” Rick answered. “Coma, fighting, constant headaches,” Rick briefly explained.

“Gonna make this everythin’ it can be?” Daryl asked.

Rick smiled and nodded, but then got serious. “If anything here hurts, you tell me, okay?”

That had the power to make Daryl melt. 

“Yea’, now lets do some shit ‘fore I pussy out.”

Rick made a, “psh,” sound but got to work, putting some lube on his fingers before going back to rubbing Daryl’s hole, the tight ring of muscle quivering.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked.

“Man, we litterally just fuckin’ started, ‘m fine.” Daryl cocked his head at Rick. “Shouldn’t ya’ jus’. . . Stick it in?”

Rick’s look was the facial expression equivalent of, ‘huh?’ He shook his head quickly. “ No, no, no I’d hurt you if I did that. I don’t know if it’d even get in.”

Daryl nodded and watched (as best as he could from laying down flat) as the tip of Rick’s middle finger pressed on his hole and inched in. Like, literally; it went in slowly, centimeter by centimeter. Daryl held his breath and Rick put his hand on Daryl’s thigh. Daryl looked confused and focused and worried as he just sat there, looking into space and trying to work out what he was feeling.

“Breath, Daryl,” Rick reminded Daryl, his hand going from Daryl’s thigh to his cock.

Daryl gasped, hips twitching when Rick stroked him. Rick’s cock twitched in his pants as he watched his finger sink into Daryl, the muscle wrapped tightly around his finger. Daryl was taking large, controlled breaths as he tried to relax but it turns out that it is _really fucking hard when you’re getting fingered_. He felt slightly lightheaded.

Daryl held Rick’s wrists still, everything going on was a lot all together. Having someone else touch you is very different from touching yourself, Daryl has come to find. It was overwhelmingly good. He felt close, even though he was uncomfortable from the finger in him. Rick’s eyes snapped to Daryl’s face, worry etched into his features.

“‘S good, ‘s a lot, don’t wanna. . . Not yet.”

God, he was about to blow like a teen and they had just been at it for a few minutes, how goddamn embarrassing. Rick understood because _of course_ _he did_ and he carefully took his hand off Daryl’s cock. Rick’s ring finger started to rub at Daryl’s entrance before pushing in beside his middle finger. It didn’t feel that great. Rick’s fingers started moving and _ow- ow- ow- ow- holy shit- ow_.

“Shit, Rick,” Daryl moaned in pain.

_Panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic-_

Rick’s fingers paused their assault and Daryl took a second to breathe.

“Do you want me to pull them out?” Rick asked. He looked so utterly terrified.

Daryl shook his head (it looked more like he was throwing his head), swallowing his panic. He didn’t want to have to get them back in. Panicking and clenching would be bad right now, very bad. Rick ran his hand over Daryl’s chest and stomach, still watching Daryl closely for any micro-reaction that Daryl might show. Eventually, it got better, the uncomfortable feeling and the pain dissipated and Daryl (finally) was able to (kind of) relax.

“How many do ya’-uh- think I need?” Daryl asked Rick who was paying rapt attention to the sight of Daryl’s pink rim clenching around his fingers.

Rick hummed shortly. “Maybe. . .” He glanced at his crotch like he could see through his boxers. “Three will be enough?”

Daryl let his head fall back onto the pillow with a muted thump.

“Think yer’ dick’s gonna tear me apart,” Daryl mumbled and Rick snorted.

“We just have to go slow.”

Rick thrusted his fingers in Daryl slowly, feeling as the muscles unclenched as time went on. Once Daryl was as calm as he could be, Rick started prodding around, curling his fingers and looking at the ceiling like he was digging for something. 

Daryl watched with curiosity as Rick bit his lip, _what the fuck is he doing_?

Then, he felt pressure in his gut and Rick’s face popped into a smile.

“I gotta piss, man,” Daryl ground out, already making to get up.

Rick gently put a hand on Daryl’s chest and leaned over him, kissing him. Rick’s fingers rubbed in circles and Daryl choked on his spit.

“Are you okay?”

Daryl coughed some more, eyes watering.

“Naw, naw ‘m not- what the _fuck is that_?” Daryl asked, a mix of curiosity, annoyance, and fear in his voice.

“Your prostate, I’ve heard great things about it,” Rick chuckled, rubbing more making Daryl gasp and spread his legs slightly more.

Daryl cocked his hips to follow Rick’s finger, grinding down then trying to thrust into nothing.

“Jesus. . . _Please don’t_ \- _ah_ ,” Daryl moaned, his tongue felt heavy.

RIck slowed down to let Daryl talk.

“What was that?”

Daryl glared half-heartedly down at Rick. “Fuckin’- _don’t stop_ , man.”

Rick nodded, jaw closing with an audible, ‘clank’. Daryl probably looked absolutely debauched. Rick sure looked lustful, pupils inhaling all of the blue in his eyes, mouth slightly opened, eyes hooded. He looked like he was getting physical pleasure from getting Daryl like this. Daryl wanted _more_. He grabbed Rick by his collar and kissed him, a clash of teeth and tongue. It was messy, it was aggressive, it was demanding.

“More,” Daryl said, thrusting into Rick’s shirt.

RIck nodded mutely, eyes now wide but still lustful, maybe even moreso. Daryl pulled Rick’s arm through his shirt, wanting it off. Rick had to take his fingers out of Daryl (at which Daryl whined at (he’ll never admit that, not even to himself)) to get his arm out of his t-shirt. It was a blur, Rick’s fingers in him, rubbing on that one spot as he loosely stroked Daryl. Rick put a third finger in at some point and it stung and Daryl tried to push it out automatically. Rick mumbled promises in Daryl’s ear, Daryl’s not even sure Rick knew what was flowing out of his mouth.

“Rick, more, more,” Daryl breathed out, the request was nearly lost in the sea of sounds, but Rick was able to pick it up.

Rick nodded, hastily getting off of the bed and twisting Daryl so his ass was hanging off the bed and facing him. Rick shimmied out of his boxers, nearly tripping in the process, and fumbled with the lube. Eventually, he squirted what was probably too much onto his hand, smearing it on his cock with a sigh and put the rest on Daryl’s blinking asshole.

Daryl shivered, “ooh, that’s fuckin’ cold!”

Rick chuckled, “can stay on a roof at the start of winter with thin clothing but can’t deal with slightly cold lube.”

Rick lightly tapped his cockhead on Daryl’s hole, Daryl’s dick twitched in response on his stomach. Rick smiled and bit his lip, taking Daryl’s cock in his hand to hold it still and used his other hand to hold his own as he tapped it on Daryl. Rick seemed to really like this.

“Fuckin’- wasn’t that cold, was like thirty degrees,” Daryl said, legs twitching and opening wider without input from Daryl.

“Okay, you woodland creature.”

The pressure on Daryl’s hole rose as Rick pushed forward. He couldn't get through and the lube made everything slippery (like it should), so his dick slipped. He tried three more times and then Daryl tried two more, none of their tries worked and Daryl grunted in frustration.

“Here,” Rick said, taking his dick with both hands.

Daryl didn’t think it would work, but Rick was determined. He held his dick near it’s head and held the shaft with his other hand, almost trying to feed it in. Daryl was about to give up before the bulbous head of Rick’s cock popped in. Both men jolted in surprise. Daryl’s hole twitched around Rick, making him suck in a breath sharply.

Daryl would mentally cheer, but he was too overwhelmed to do anything let alone think. His hand sat suspended in the air with his jaw dropped. Rick took Daryl’s calf and put it over his shoulder, holding the other as wide open as it could go. Rick continued pushing in, squeezing his eyes shut multiple times but always snapping them open and watching Daryl closely.

Daryl’s arm finally dropped when Rick was about halfway in, his body going slack with a strangled moan. He was just feeling, just in the moment. It was weird, not a bad weird per-say, but just weird. He felt full, and he bets if water was poured on him, it would just evaporate immediately. Rick used his unoccupied hand to caress Daryl’s face.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked, cocking his head.

Daryl made a noise. He looked frazzled.

“Do you need something. . . ?” Rick questioned, he looked worried.

“I-” Daryl started. “I jus’- _Rick_.” He sounded almost distressed.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to pull out? Daryl, please, are you okay?!”

Rick and Daryl stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before Daryl nodded, it was more of a jerk.

“What. . . ? Are you hurt? I can pull out if you need. Do you need me to? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” was all Daryl could get himself to say.

“Yes?”

Quiet for a bit.

“Yes.”

Rick sat still for a bit, supposing that Daryl needed time to collect his thoughts before he got the other half in.

“‘M fine,” Daryl choked out after a while. “That’s- _holy shit_ \- ’s different.”

Rick chuckled, but it was mostly covered with leftover worry.

“Take your time, tell me when you want me to continue.”

“‘ _Continue’_ ? What, there’s fuckin’ _more_?” Daryl asked, incredulously.

“We got about halfway,” Rick said, grimacing for Daryl. “Is it really that full? We could stop right here, I don’t have to go all the way.”

Daryl shook his head. “No, no I wanna. Feel like it took forever ta’ get ‘ere ‘n we still got half more. Jus’ gotta. . .'' Daryl searched for the word, weakly waving his hand in the air.

“Recoup?”

“Yea’.”

So Rick stood as still as he could while Daryl rubbed his eyes and breathed slowly. Eventually, Dary took his leg down from Rick’s shoulder and Rick held it back on the bed like he was doing to the other.

“Yea’,” Daryl groaned, “ya’ can go now. Slow.”

Rick nodded, placing a hand on Daryl’s stomach. Slowly, super, super slowly, Rick continued. Once Rick’s pelvis met Daryl’s balls, Daryl took a gasping breath letting his head fall back. Rick leaned down, kissing Daryl’s collarbone and sucking until a blue mark was left over. Daryl let out a guttural moan reaching up to hold the back of Rick’s neck.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Daryl moaned, hands shaking.

“Doin’ okay?” Rick breathed out, looking slightly weak.

“Yea’, ‘m fine.”

“Just breathe,” Rick soothed, running his right hand on Daryl’s side.

_Easy for you to say_!

Rick rolled his eyes, poking Daryl’s side, making Daryl twist away with a scoff. Rick sent Daryl a questioning gaze, slightly shifting his hips. Daryl’s breath stuttered and he twitched around Rick.

“Yea’, go,” Daryl said, nodding.

Rick looked downright relieved.

“Ah,” Daryl moaned, toes curling as Rick started moving.

It wouldn’t be long, Daryl knew. He was writhing under Rick, wrapping his arms around Rick’s shoulders to squeeze at them and bury his face in Rick's neck. Rick leaned closer, the two being wrapped around each other. Rick licked and kissed at Daryl’s neck and jaw as Daryl ran his blunt nails over Rick’s back, hips twitching as he rutted into Rick’s stomach.

“ _Rick_ ,” Daryl whined, it sounded almost like a warning.

Rick grunted, sweat collecting on his forehead as he thrusted into Daryl. It wasn’t hard or fast, but it wasn’t laguid either, it was surprisingly perfect. But Daryl wanted _more_ . It felt great, the feel of Rick on him, in him, his cock rubbing on Rick’s stomach, clenching muscles, kisses and marks being left on both of their necks. Rick slightly leaned on his right side, putting his right arm under Daryl’s neck like a pillow and used his left to stroke Daryl, eyes closed in concentration. Daryl will never forget that look; pleasure filled, loving, concentrated, complete. If Daryl could just survive on that image, he damn well _would_.

Rick cracked open his eyes and they watched each other, saw even the smallest emotions that went through their eyes. Daryl arched as Rick’s hand sped up, the copious amounts of precome smoothing each stroak.

“Oh. Oh, oh, _oh, oh, oh, oh, Rick_!” Daryl shouted, curling in and plastering himself to Rick’s chest, breathing on Rick’s neck and making him shiver.

Daryl came on their stomachs and Rick’s hand, the white substance sticking between them.

“Yea’, there ya’ go, good,” Rick said as Daryl twitched in the aftershocks.

“ _Rick_ ,” Daryl moaned, his body not deciding if it wanted to thrust into Rick’s loose hand or if it wanted to pull away. “ _Please, please, please, please, gimme, please, ah_!”

Rick didn’t stop his pace, actually getting faster and sloppier.

“Daryl,” Rick grunted, holding Daryl’s hips. “God. . .”

Daryl pulled Rick down in a hot kiss, moving with Rick. Everything was sloppy, everything was messy, the want to impress had gone out the window.

“Yes- ah- common, Rick,” Daryl said, wrapping his legs around Rick and squeezing.

Rick’s pace faltered as he moaned, shoving himself as close to Daryl as he could be. He brushed Daryl’s prostate, making Daryl gasp and clench on Rick as Rick’s cock twitched, spending in him with a grunt. Rick didn’t pull out until Daryl’s body started to shove him out, the come quickly following.

Daryl hissed in overstimulation as Rick pulled out and watched as his seed came out of Daryl’s puffed hole.

“ _Damn_ ,” he mumbled, with wide eyes. “That’s fuckin’ beutiful.”

Daryl knocked him upside the head with his foot but let Rick look for as long as he wanted. Rick nuzzled behind Daryl's balls and kissed his hole.

“Fuck, Rick. What the hell?” Daryl snorted.

Daryl felt Rick’s smile more than he saw it and he rolled his eyes. Rick pretty much pushed Daryl into the middle of the bed. He retrieved a towel and wiped his hand of the leftover lube and come. He wetted the cloth with a water bottle nearby and handed the bottle to Daryl.

“Thanks.” 

Daryl started guzzling the water as Rick laid down next to him, gently wiping at Daryl’s thighs and hips. Rick had gotten lube _everywhere_. Daryl was rendered useless, sprawled out on the bed.

“How was that for a first time?” Rick asked while he cleaned Daryl.

Daryl looked over at Rick, smiling. Rick grinned back, tossing the towel to the other side of the room. Daryl turned onto his side and held Rick’s cheeks.

“Think that was the most amazin’ thing I’ve ever done,” Daryl answered. 

“You’re probably exhausted,” Rick said. “Stay here?”

Daryl shimmied closer to Rick, wrapping his arms around Rick’s hips.

“‘M gonna stay ‘ere, fuck my cell. Tomorrow, we gonna wake up together ‘n come out together.” Rick snorted at his word choice. “Hah hah, I know. Then, we’re gonna go out to the fences, take down some walkers, ‘n then ‘m gonna show _ya’_ a good time.”

Rick’s grin widened. “Yeah?” He had a playful glint in his eyes. “Are ya’ now?”

“Mhm, gonna get cha’ alone where no one can hear us ‘n yer’ gonna make some pretty noises for me,” Daryl said, he has no clue where this confidence came from.

“Just like ya’ did for me?” Rick asked. “Didn’t think you’d get so damn loud.”

Daryl’s face went beat red and apparently so did his chest because Rick felt the need to comment on that, “hah, I made your chest go red!” He poked at Daryl’s ear that was peaking through his hair. “Your ear is too!”

Daryl lightly shoved Rick. “Shut the fuck up.”

  
  


There’s a difference between plans, expectations, and reality. Daryl _planned_ to wake up with Rick gently in the perfect morning light and _expected_ to kiss and cuddle and walk out to breakfast holding hands. But that didn’t happen, the _reality_ was that they didn’t wake up smoothly. He was jolted awake by a fully dressed Rick with panic ridden eyes. Those blue eyes that had just been filled with overwhelming love and lust were now terrified and haunted.

“Daryl! We have to go now!” Rick said over the cries and screams echoing through the halls. It was deafening.

Daryl quickly shoved on his boxers he had been wearing last night, the ones Rick gave to him, and threw on his shirt, nearly getting tangled in it. Rick had Merle’s jacket and Daryl’s crossbow in his hands and threw them at Daryl immediately when his hands were free. Adrenaline was running high, so high that it made his hands shake. Daryl rushed to shrug on Merle’s jacket.

“Common,” Rick commanded, grabbing Daryl’s hand and pulling him out of the cell.

Walkers _everywhere_. Some were feeding, others were chasing people down the halls. People running over others, people fighting walkers and being surrounded, people pushing in a panic. The halls echoed with screams and it was blistering hot with all of the moving bodies, it was giving Daryl a headache. Once they got outside, someone shoved between Rick and Daryl, severing their hands. Daryl lost Rick in the herd of rushing people and bobbing heads. 

He squinted through the falling now and shot a walker that was nearing him with a clean shot to the head. He ripped the bolt out of the walker’s forehead to use as a knife, reloading would take too long. People looked like a herd of panicking cows, all trying to run and flee. People tried to climb the fences, being hit with blistering wind and snow, someone kicked another person down to save themself, the person dropped into the waiting hands of the walkers below them.

“Help!” came a shrill scream from behind him. 

He flipped around, finding Lori surrounded. She was swiftly taken down as Daryl started to run over, her screams being muffled as the walkers all huddled around her. It was like quicksand. Daryl killed all of the walkers, shoving them away and clocking them over the heads with his crossbow. He was much too late, Lori was lying on the ground, bleeding out and bitten everywhere, flesh hanging on thin strands. She looked up at Daryl with a pain filled expression, croaking. Cries came from underneath her and Daryl snapped out of his shock, flipping her onto her back. Judith. Judith was crying. He took her from Lori, the woman not giving any fight.

“Go,” Lori gagged out, choking on her own spit. “Get out.”

Daryl tried to find words, he tried to say something poetic or calming. But he couldn’t, all he could squeeze out of his mouth was, “okay.”

He got up and ran, shouldering his crossbow to hold Judith’s head to his chest. He ran past screaming people, he ran past walkers that pulled at his clothing and at his hair and past abandoned cars. Barefeet in the snow, cold air licking his legs. Sophia yelped and screamed, a walker about ready to get her as well, nails making crescent indentations in her ankle. Daryl kicked it, hurting his foot in the process but freeing Sophia. He pulled her along, running through the overrun yard, snow blowing into his eyes. Beth was at the gate, holding it open, selfless. She saw Daryl and waved him over, calling for him over the howling winds.

“Common,” Daryl said, pushing her with a shoulder, his hands had been taken by holding Judith and pulling Sophia along, “we gotta go.”

“No! There’s still people in there!” she shouted back. Selfless to the point that she’s going to kill herself.

“Beth!” he said, holding her shoulder after he pulled his hand away from Sophia. “We gotta get the fuck outta ‘ere! Let’s go!”

He pulled her along and she had no choice but to follow, pulling Sophia along behind her.

They ran for what had to be miles, adrenaline the only thing fueling them. They stopped at a gas station. Judith was crying and shivering, so Daryl handed over his shirt, swaddling her to the best of his ability. The gas station was cold, but warmer than outside. Daryl’s feet were frozen cold and he couldn’t feel his toes at all, not even when he pinched them. It would be a miracle if he didn't get hypothermia. 

_Rick is gone_.

Daryl stumbled into the bathrooms, it was one of those genderless ones.

_Rick is gone_.

Daryl tried the tap. Nothing.

_Rick is gone_.

Even the toilet was empty.

_Rick is gone_.

Daryl sat down on the floor.

_Rick is gone_.

A tear trekked down his face.

_Rick is gone_ . _Rick is gone_ . _Rick is gone_ . _Rick is gone_ . _Rick is gone_ . _Rick is gone_ . _Rick is gone_ . _Rick is gone_ -

Daryl punched the wall, shoulders tense, face pulled into a mix of anger and overwhelming sadness.

_Rick is fucking gone_.

Daryl rubbed his eyes, slumping back down and taking in a long, shuddering breath.

Left foot, right foot, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: graphic depictions of death and graphic depictions of violence.
> 
> Wow. I'm sorry, gang. Lori you will be missed.
> 
> Good news: I got the smut done though! It turned out a lot different than I intended, half of the time I can't take p r o n serriously. I try to make everything as realistic as I can, but, of course, I still have some fanfiction magic in there. Who the fuck wants to read about someone washing out their ass? Not me that's for sure. So I took some creative liberties, mostly everything is pretty realistic though. Of course, I can't have Daryl have something good for too long, though. ;)
> 
> This was a pretty long part, it spanned from page 188 to 204. Oh yeah, I made it to my goal of 200 pages! Hallelujah. 
> 
> Comments that I wrote that I found really funny for no reason?:
> 
> I highlighted, "white substance," and wrote, "😎👌" Riveting stuff I know.
> 
> I highlighted, “please, please, please, please, gimme, please, ah!” and wrote, "wow" in italics. No capitalization or anything, just, "wow."
> 
> "It felt great, the feel of Rick on him, in him, his cock rubbing on Rick’s stomach, clenching muscles, kisses and marks being left on both of their necks," I wrote, "It's great how this is what I'm using my writing skills for." "This" was in italics.
> 
> Lastly, I highlighted, "pleasure filled, loving, concentrated, complete." and I wrote, "This is getting too poetic for me and I fucking hate it."
> 
> (Hope you liked this part btw thanks for reading okay bye love you guys-❤️ )


	35. Clothing ig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl, Beth, Sophia, and Judith find a store.

Beth was holding Judith and Sophia was holding Beth’s hand in front of Daryl. He kept an ear out for danger, eyes flicking around but always returning to the girls in front. He wasn’t doing his best, he knows, half of his brain is still with Rick.

Beth looked back at him briefly, but looked back and slowed down, coming to walk beside Daryl with Sophia following suit. Nobody had mentioned how Daryl was nearly naked, and Daryl didn’t dare bring it up.

“Are ya’ okay?” Beth asked, reaching out to put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder but stopping short as Daryl recoiled.

“‘M  _ fine _ ,” Daryl hissed, holding his arms flush to his body. It was the first time he had spoken since they left the prison.

Sophia was cradling Judith in one arm, Sophia was looking up at Daryl with big eyes.

“I think she’s hungry,” Sophia said softly, looking down at Judith.

Daryl nodded. The problem is that Daryl has no clue about formula or anything of the sort. He reached down for Judith, at which Sophia smiled at, handing the little baby over. Judith looked up at Daryl with big eyes, grinning at him with a toothless smile. Daryl couldn’t stop the small twitch of a smile that popped onto his face. Beth walked over slowly, looking down at Judith once she got next to Daryl.

“You’re very good with her,” she noted, bringing a finger up to caress Judith’s little, fat cheek.

“Naw, ‘m not. Lil’ girl jus’ knows that I pro’ly have food,” Daryl brushed off the compliment. 

Daryl walked a bit faster as the two girls struggled to keep up.

“There’s a town with stores nearby if I’m guessin’ our location right,” Beth said. “One of them is bound to have formula.”

Daryl nodded and slowed down, it’s good that Beth didn’t push the compliment. Beth led the way until the sun went down and the outline of an abandoned store showed in the distance, surrounded by other stores, like a mall but smaller. Cars raided and the packaging of items strewn across the parking lot in front of the building, empty. Beth and Sophia stuck close by, Beth with her knife out. This felt wrong, being here feels dangerous, but Daryl looked down at Judith and she was looking up at him with big, innocent eyes.

“Hold it like this,” Daryl said to Beth, motioning to his own hand. She was holding it wrong, if she tried to stab a walker she would probably break her thumb.

Beth nodded wordlessly and adjusted the knife in her hand. It looked clunky. The store’s door was boarded up, padlocks and chains screwed into the concrete of the building. Should be a back door around the side if the store layout is like the other stores he’s been to. It turns out that the staff doors were around the back and were open wide. Daryl bent low, holding Judith snuggly to his bare chest. Brandishing his knife, Daryl slowly made his way into the store, clearing each isle and each corner before he nodded. He shut the back door, blocking it with a nearby broom and chair. The door was one of those with the push bar on it and swung outward, so the broom would stop the door from opening when he shoved it in between the door and the metal push bar. The chair was just a reassurance. The store looked like a clothing store, small victories Daryl guesses.

Daryl didn’t let Beth or Sophia out of his sight, keeping a tight hold on Judith as well. Daryl cleared the store, but who knows if he missed anything. There weren't any thick, winter clothes, damn seasonal goods, there were only swimming suits and flip flops, the warmest things he could get were hoodies. Daryl would have to make due with some baggy jeans that were too loose around his legs, ten layers of thin socks (it was painful to put them on and wear them, they scratched on his cold, sensitive feet), shitty running shoes, and a hoodie that he shimmied into under Merle’s jacket. He was going to bundle up Beth and Sophia in ten-thousand layers of hoodies.

“This one's pink!” Sophia exclaimed, taking the pink hoodie down from it’s rack. It had purple sequins on the front.

“Too bright,” Daryl mumbled, taking down a black and army green hoodie. It would be good in the woods, but horrible out in the open.

They would be too big on Sophia, but that could be solved by tying some fabric around her waist, same with Daryl’s baggy pants.

Sophia pouted until Daryl gave in. “Put it on under these.”

Sophia liked that compromise, prancing around the store in her pink, sparkly hoodie until Daryl told her to get into the other two. He gave three others to Beth and the teen put it on without an argument. Daryl swaddled Judith in a shit ton of shirts.

“That’s pretty,” Sophia commented.

Daryl realized she was talking to him. “What?” he asked.

“Your bracelet, I like it.” She pointed at the bracelet on Daryl’s wrist.

Daryl had forgotten it was there through all of the “excitement” (hard air quotes) that had happened. He caressed it before he snapped out of it and picked up Judith.

“Where did you get it from?” Sophia asked. She can’t leave well enough alone, can she?

“Was a gift,” Daryl said, wandering the aisles to try and find anything for Judith. 

_ Pacifiers, teething toys, diapers, wipes, formula _ . . .  _ Please don’t let this just be a clothing store. . . _

Beth came over from the aisle next to the one that Daryl was wandering down.

“Lori was in the process of weaning Judith,” she said. 

Daryl cocked his head. “What does that mean?”

“Lori was trying to wean Judith off of breast milk and onto baby food. We won’t need too much formula, but we’ll need baby food. That’s why we were so excited for the crops, we could make our own baby food.”

Daryl sucked in a breath, looking to the ground. He doesn’t want to think of anything to do with Rick right now. He can't escape it apparently. Judith was already reminding him enough and then Sophia had with her pointing out the bracelet. Beth took notice in his dropped mood and she looked at the ground as well.

“We’re going to find them.”

For some reason, that made Daryl blow up.

“No we’re not! Do ya’ know how big these damn woods are?! Jus’ gonna be wastin’ our time ‘cause they’re all fuckin’  _ dead _ ! They’re  _ dead _ ! How many did cha’ see get out, huh?! How many can actually use a knife or a gun?! How many ran past ya’ ‘n didn’t try ta’ take ya’ with?!” Daryl poked a finger into Beth’s shoulder and flipped around, stomping away, seething with anger.

Sophia was trying to hold in her cries, Beth was tearing up, and Judith was whimpering. Daryl went further into the store, collapsing on the ground and leaning against a shoe rack. He listened to the deafening silence, until Sophia’s sobs bubbled up and she let out a harsh cry. There was shifting of clothing and Sophia’s cries got muffled.

“Don’t worry, Daryl’s just scared,” Beth said, whispering. Daryl could hardly hear it. “He’s just scared. He didn’t mean that. There were so many people, no one could see us. Your mamma and papa, my daddy, Michonne, Lori, Carl, Shane, Maggie, Glenn, Ed, Andera, Amy, Sasha, Tyreese, Allen, Ben, and Rick, they all made it. Daryl’s just scared.”

Daryl choked, curling over Judith. Daryl knows for a fact that they’re all dead, Beth is  _ lying _ . Daryl swiped the silent tears that had fallen down Judith’s cheek off with his thumb. Daryl will  _ never  _ let Judith die. She’ll grow old, have a family, children of her own if she wants, and a nice community to live in. Daryl won’t let her die. For Judith, for Rick, for Lori, for himself.

Daryl swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, putting his head against the shoe rack behind him, listening. 

_ Shifting stones, scuffles of boots, whispers, clicking of a gun _ .

Daryl jumped up, alert, staring at the door as he rushed over to Sophia and Beth as quietly as he could. He ushered them behind a cash register, putting a finger to his lips. Daryl pointed at the door to explain what was going on. He handed Judith to Sophia to have both of his hands open. He reached over his shoulder to hold his crossbow, but patted his back once he realized it wasn’t there. He had put it down to put on the clothing on himself (it’s not _his_ ) and it was still leaned against a clothing rack, unloaded, bolts sitting in the quiver.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid _ !

He had to get it unless they wanted to die. If those people decided to come in (of which it sounded like they had), they would be fucked without it, even with it they might be. The broom in front of the door will slow them down a bit.

He held up a hand to Beth, motioning to her belt to take out her knife. He had a sneaking suspicion that towns would be dangerous! He should have listened to his gut.

_ Stupid fucking idiot _ !

Beth looked panicked- well, everyone did. Daryl bets his eyes aren’t hiding anything right now, the fear is too strong. This is what it’s like to care about someone, he guesses. Beth took out her knife and held it like she normally did. Daryl adjusted it for her and gave her a thumbs up.

He had to weave through the isles and around mannequins to get his crossbow, he struggled with loading it from his cold, sausage fingers. The person (people?) were now reefing on the door, the broom was cracking quickly. Daryl bolted to Beth, Sophia, and Judith, sliding behind the register just before the people got in. The door bursts open, the broom making a loud crack and clank as it breaks and fell to the ground. Daryl peaked over the top of the register just enough to see.

“Len, Harley, Lou, check 'round,” a man said.

“Got it, Boss,” Len said, holding up his crossbow lazily.

The other men, Harley and Lou, nodded and held out their weapons, a knife and handgun respectively. 

Len prowled on the other side of the cash register, leaning over the top. Sophia gasped sharply as Beth clamped a hand over her mouth and Daryl squeezed the three girls as close to the register as he could. Judith, seeming to know something was wrong, kept quiet thankfully, looking around with curious eyes. 

She watched as Sophia and Beth’s faces morphed into fear, saw the tears well up and cascade down Sophia’s face. She then looked over at Daryl, seeing the man cowering, such a startling contrast to how anyone usually sees him. She probably thinks he’s weak. 

The smell of fear was ripe as Lou wandered over, handgun out, directly towards them. Daryl chanced it and leapt up, slapping a hand over the man’s mouth and pulling him down, stabbing him through the eye with a stray bolt that had slipped out of Daryl's quiver when he came careening over. The man didn’t have time to cry out before the bolt embedded itself in his brain. It was like Lou had never been there.

It  _ would  _ have been if Len didn’t reach over the counter and grab Beth’s hair, pulling her up. He had seen. Daryl jumped, trying to grab her hand before he was pulled away by two other men, arm’s wrapped around his chest from both sides. Sophia was dragged into a stand and Judith was ripped from her arms, the baby crying out.

_ Don’t drop her, don’t hurt them, please God don’t _ -

Daryl was forced into a kneel, knees cracking. The man in front of him radiated conficance, the look in his eyes read danger. Daryl struggled, trying to pull his hands out of the tight hold they were in. Sophia was shaking, Judith was crying, Beth was glaring at the men around them, trying not to cry herself.

The man (who was definitely the leader) came over, leaning down to look Daryl in the face.   
  


“What’s your name? Now, you better tell the truth, because ya’ gotta know I  _ hate  _ liars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horrible. Good news though: I'm already working on the next part! I'm now (currently) nearing 80,000 words! New record!
> 
> Poor Daryl is looking pretty bad right now. . . Well, everyone is. Guess what? The whole theme of this story is in the tags, "it gets worse before it gets better," keep that in mind. :)


	36. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Claimers doing things that the Claimers do. Daryl and Beth doing things that a good human would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the warnings in the end notes, they're serious.

“Daryl,” Daryl answered, eyes snapping to Beth, Sophia, and Judith quickly before looking the leader in the eye.

He couldn’t hold that eye contact though, his stomach churning and clenching painfully. The man watched Daryl was a burning intensity before his lips quirked into a smile.

“Good. I’m Joe. Now, you just killed one of my men, Lou. He was good.” Joe crouched down, scooching closer so his breath wafted over Daryl’s face. Daryl cringed, turning his face to the side. “You’re gonna pay us with those little girls and your blood.”

Joe stood up, motoning a grinning man to Sophia. He grabbed Sophia by her waist, pulling her down on her stomach as she tried to scramble away. Daryl and Beth were struggling, Beth was screaming at them to stop.

“Get yer’ fuckin’ hands offa’ her, ya’ discustin’ fucks!” Daryl yelled, pulling on the people holding him down.

Len was one of the men holding Daryl down, he rounded Daryl and blocked his view of the girls. He sneered and spit on Daryl’s face before clocking him over the head with his crossbow. Daryl pulled back, but wasn’t fast enough, the crossbow dug into his cheek and tore the skin there to shreds. Len kicked his stomach and went in to punch again, and again, and again, and again. The man that had been holding Daryl’s arms joined in as well, kicking Daryl’s shoulder until it popped out of it's socket. Pain exploded from his shoulder, enough to make him shout, just one, quick note before he cut himself off, arching up from the floor. There was a blur of kicking and punching, of pain and agony, of crying and screaming.

It all happened quickly, Beth snagged her extra, smaller knife out of her back pocket and stuck it down in the man’s leg that was holding her. The surprise was enough to distract everyone, Daryl was able to grab the leg of the man behind him and pull him down. He used that distraction to jump up and punch Len, knocking him onto the floor. Grabbing a pueny pocket knife off of the one he kicked, he thrusted it into the temple of the man, hitting it in with the heel of his palm to make sure it went all the way. A bruise would surely be left.

Beth was struggling with two more men and Daryl jumped in, quite literally, he jumped onto the back of one of the men and dug his fingers into his eyes, blinding him for the moment (or, hopefully, forever). Beth was able to jam her knife into the chest of one of her attackers and rushed away to help Sophia who was still struggling under that man. The man Daryl had blinded recovered much quicker than Daryl expected and was going for Judith who was sitting on the treadmill next to a cash register. She was absolutely  _ screaming _ . Daryl grabbed his arm with his working one, flipping him around before he could get his grubby mitts on her and punched him in the face as hard as he could, feeling his knuckles split. His arm hurt like a motherfucker, swinging around and jostling with each punch.

“Daryl!” Beth yelled.

Beth had gotten Sophia out of harm's way and over to Judith, the little blonde was behind Beth, cowering with Judith cradled in her arms, the baby still screaming bloody murder. Daryl ran over, taking the knife that Beth had dropped and kicking the big man off of her.

“No, no, no, no, no, man, common, we can be friends,” the man pleaded.

“I want nothin’ ta’ do with people like  _ ya’ _ ,” Daryl hissed, thrusting the knife into the man’s stomach, then his chest, then his arm, over and over and over again. 

He couldn’t hear, he was so  _ angry _ . How  _ dare  _ this adult try and  _ use _ a child like that. How  _ dare  _ this man try and  _ hurt  _ a child. How  _ dare  _ he, how  _ dare  _ he, how  _ dare  _ he, how  _ dare  _ he, how  _ dare  _ he, how  _ dare  _ he, how  _ dare  _ he. 

When Daryl finally stopped, he realized that Beth was held by Len by her hoodie, the man had gotten back up. No weapon.

_ Stupid fucking idiot _ ! Daryl berated himself.

Sophia was held at gunpoint by Joe.

“This could have all gone smoothly,” the man said. “But you forced our hands when you killed Lou.”

Daryl didn’t want this filth to live anymore, so he whipped the knife at the man. Daryl hadn’t ever really done much with knife throwing, but he could vaguely hit his target. The knife embedded itself below Joe’s neck, but above his collarbone. He gasped, gurgling as he dropped his handgun on impulse. Daryl ran and picked it up, shooting Len in the forehead.

It was quiet, no one talked as Daryl collected his bolts and the guns that were on the dead people around them. Judith was quiet, they were all in shock, moving like robots. Daryl collected the bolts from Len’s corpse, but they wouldn’t fit in his bow, too thin, so he tossed them back onto the floor with a clatter. Daryl gave Beth her knife back and a handgun and the girl took them silently, putting them in her belt, not turning the safety on. Daryl didn’t have the thought to mention it. Daryl emptied the handgun that Joe had and threw the gun and magazine on the man’s face. He felt anger, but it fizzled out as quickly as it came. 

They didn’t talk for the rest of the day.

  
  


Sophia was still holding Judith as they huddled around a fire in the middle of the woods, back to a fallen tree to keep the biting wind at bay.

  
  
“Your shoulder,” Beth said, pointing at Daryl’s lame shoulder.

Daryl looked at it before returning to look at the fire, shrugging with his working shoulder.

“We should set it,” Beth said again, trying to verbally nudge Daryl.

Daryl hummed. Yeah, they probably should. Probably. Daryl put the meager hunk of squirrel he was able to catch on a stick, like a smore. Like when Daryl first found Sophia. Before Daryl met Rick.

“I can set it.” Beth reached for Daryl’s arm, but he turned away. The sudden movement made a sharp pain flare up in his shoulder.

Daryl grunted, “I’ll be fine.”

Beth was able to convince him once Judith and Sophia fell asleep, curled up together. Beth laid Daryl down, face first on the log. It was tall enough so that Daryl couldn’t touch the ground. She pulled his arm down, one hand on Daryl’s wrist, the other on his forearm.

“I’ll have to pull for about ten to twenty minutes. I’ve only done this with Daddy to a rabbit, I didn’t really  _ do  _ it, but I watched him and he explained it to me. Rabbits’ joints are surprisingly similar to humans’ shoulder joints,” Beth said, at this point she was just rambling, trying to fill the quiet.

Daryl tuned it out, listening to the crackling of the fire. His shoulder suddenly made a loud pop and he startled, jumping as a pain shot up his neck.

“Ah shit!” Daryl shouted, clapping a hand over his shoulder.

He recovered a few seconds later and rolled his shoulder, a tingle went down his spine.

“Don’t use it too much,” Beth said, reaching out for a second time but pulling back again. “Hold it close to your body, that’s what people do with shoulder injuries, right?”

Daryl nodded and picked up some snow, half melted from the fire, and shoved it on his hot shoulder, it would keep the swelling down. Beth understood that their conversation was over and she nodded back, going over to Sophia and sitting next to her, holding Sophia’s head on her chest. Beth fell asleep quickly, exhausted. Daryl couldn’t go to sleep, he'd keep watch.

So he didn’t, he just held the snow on his shoulder until it melted and got more, over and over and over again. He didn’t want to fall asleep because Rick would be there, he would always be there.

The stars were really pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .:Warnings: near child rape, graphic depictions of violence, death:.
> 
> I really don't want to joke around in this chapter (for obvious reasons), so I'm not going to. I'm just going to list a source that I used for resetting dislocated shoulders. I don't really know what to do when I'm not joking around, so yeah. 
> 
> Hey, at least the Claimers (the degenerates they are) are dead, that's good.
> 
> Source: “Reducing a Dislocated Shoulder, Yours or Someone Else’s” witten by Noreen Iftikhar, reviewed by William Morrison, and published by HealthLine. https://www.healthline.com/health/how-to-pop-your-shoulder


	37. You Dumb-Dumb.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They sure be struggling though.👌

The snow was now noticeably melting. Beth had pointed it out and then Sophia wouldn’t be quiet about it, apparently spring is her favorite season and winter is her least favorite, but she loves them all. Daryl was listening more to the little girl than he probably should. Sopha was constantly trying to fill the quiet with chatter, always about anything other than the group and the world ending, which was fine. Daryl didn’t have the heart to tell her to be quiet.

They were resting for the night again, tin cans set up with lines strung through them around the small camp. Beth was leaning against Daryl’s right shoulder, Sophia on his left and Judith in his arms. Daryl spaced out on the little moon on his bracelet until Sophia shifted and woke up, suddenly it was light out.

They kept on moving, Beth was getting progressively more fed up with Daryl. They argued about what living was (“this ain’t living! Bein’ ‘fraid of everythin’ and not tryin’ anythin’ new! It’s not living, Daryl! This ain’t it!”), about where their group was (“they’re  _ dead _ , Beth! Alla’ ‘em! Fuckin’  _ dead _ !”). Beth had made it her mission to find alcohol and drink before she died. They found a hunting shit-sty, bottles of moonshine were in a shack around the back just like Daryl expected. They got drunk, Daryl yelled, stormed out, started being a great A asshole, taunting Beth. He cried like a pussy, a goddamn  _ pussy _ . Beth didn’t say anything about it, though, she just shushed him like Rick would do and hugged him around his stomach, that made him cry harder.

He saw Merle, sneering, laughing, jeering Daryl for being a fag, asking him if he was chasing little girls now. Daryl had a brawl with what he thought was Merle, but it was a tree. The tree won.

At least Daryl made a makeshift baby harness with re-ripped up knuckles that night. . . ?

Daryl stuck behind the girls, looking down at the ground more often than not, spaced out, thinking. They found a golf course, it smelled horrible but they needed a place to stay. They “slept” (they didn’t sleep, they couldn’t) among the dead and weren’t able to eat dinner that day, or breakfast and lunch the next. 

They were hanging on by threads now, Daryl was hardly catching enough to feed Beth, Sophia and Judith. Judith was eating mushed up squirrel now, Daryl really had to work it into a thin paste. She was doing really well, eating like a cow on steroids, she didn’t seem to care that it wasn’t ground up veggies or normal baby food, she seemed to enjoy it really, little wilderness explorer. Daryl had to sacrifice more than half of his little squirrel chunk for her, which is fine. They haven’t left the woods yet, Beth has tried, she’s tried to convince Daryl to get to the roads or the train tracks, but it’s not safe, everyone goes on them, there’s more of a chance they’ll run into bad people. 

Beth had been leading quietly, Daryl holding Judith in the hoodie-belt harness on his front, Sophia had a knife on her, Beth was helping her learn how to hold it in different ways, specifically the way Daryl had shown her. Pebbles shifted under Daryl’s feet and he paused, looking up at the mountain of stones. They were on a fucking train track.

“Beth!” Daryl called. “Why the  _ fuck _ are we ‘ere?”

Beth didn’t look back at him as she answered, “ya’ don’t wanna find the group, fine, but  _ I  _ want to, you’re not going to stop me. Either I die tryin’ to find my way back to Daddy and Maggie, or I find them.”

Daryl sighed, snapping his head to the side to flick some hair out of his eye. Beth’s right, Daryl won’t stop her, the girl had figured out that Daryl would bitch and moan all day long, but he would never be able to stop her really unless he drug her bodily away but he would never lay a harmful hand on any of the three girls. Daryl’s absolutely exhausted anyway. So Daryl nodded, keeping his complaints to himself, swallowing the anxiety. Beth and Sophia played on the track, tossing pebbles, balancing on the metal rails.

They heard a growl and all of their heads whipped to the right, it was just one walker, gurgling and stumbling out of the woods. Daryl tried to pass Judith to Sophia, but Beth put her hand out.

“She needs to learn how to kill one,” Beth said.

“Take Judi, ‘m bigger than ya’ ‘n I can hold it.”

It was a good idea, Sophia did need to learn about killing a walker. Beth took Judith after some deliberation. Daryl held the walker by it’s shoulders and kicked the back of it’s knees, making it kneel. He held the walker while Sophia cowered, knife out but clutched close to her chest.

“Common, won’t hurt ya’, I got it.”

Sophia still didn’t move, she just watched the walker with wide, terrified eyes. Beth came over and put a hand on Sophia’s shoulder. Daryl held out a hand and Beth handed hers over with a cocked head. He stuck the knife in between the walker’s jaws, it’s rotting teeth scraping loudly on the metal. Sophia cringed, yelping as Daryl wrenched the knife down, peeling the walker’s jaw off so it plopped onto the stones under their feet.

“Won’t have a chance of bitin’ ya’ now,” he said.

Sophia nodded slowly, fighting with her locked knees to inch over, raising the knife. Daryl stopped her before she could, though, cranking the walker’s head to the side while fumbling to still hold it’s shoulder. He pointed at it’s temple.

“Right here, it’ll be easier to get through.”

Sophia nodded, reeling back and squeaking as she stabbed it. It went limp, dropping to the ground as it’s brain got punctured.

“Good job,” Beth said, rubbing Sophia’s back, “you did it!”

Sophia nodded, a small, nervous smile on her face.

“I did!”

Daryl nodded, flicking off a little piece of walker flesh that his nails dug into. He gave Beth back her knife and she gave Daryl Judith. Beth held the baby up to Daryl’s chest as he fiddled with the sleeves around his neck. Then, they were off again. Sophia wasn’t really affected by facing down the walker, she recovered like a bouncy ball. They stopped at a sign after about an hour of walking.

“Look, Daryl,” Beth said, pointing at the sign.

“‘Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive.’ Sounds like a crock o’ shit,” Daryl read, absentmindedly petting the little, blonde hairs on Judith’s head.

Beth looked unimpressed as Sophia thunked down on the ground, rubbing the bottom of her shoes. 

“My feet hurt,” she said.

Beth nodded at the little girl. “Let's rest for the night and then go in, maybe everyone else is there?”

Daryl ran a thumb against the star with “Terminus” next to it. It was a very rough map, but it would be enough. Daryl held in his, “they’re all dead,” remark. He sharply pulled his thumb back.

“Naw,” he simply said, shaking his head.

Beth furrowed her brows, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you joking me?!” Daryl shook his head again. “Common, Daryl! What could happen?!”

“Could be dangerous.”

“ _ Everything  _ is dangerous! Walking around out here is dangerous!”

“We’re not goin’, end of discussion,” Daryl said, like a parent.

Beth scoffed, whipping around and making a start towards the woods.

“Where are ya’ goin’?” Daryl asked before she could break through the trees.

“Getting tinder! If we’re staying here for the night, we need to start a fire!”

Daryl opened his mouth to say that they never agreed on that, but Beth was already gone. Daryl sighed, running a hand down his face. Fucking teenagers. . . Sophia took Judith and Daryl got a fire pit ready (he just kicked some snow away from where he would put the fire). Beth came back and he set it up, not lighting it until the daylight was swallowed up by the nighttime darkness.They ate leftover squirrel that smelled kind of funky. If they had something else, Daryl would have thrown that little bit of squirrel into a lava pit.

Daryl stayed up for, around, the next four hours and it was fully dark now, stars shining brightly. Daryl fell asleep, unable to keep going on the five hours of sleep he got two days ago. He woke up at the asscrack of dawn, stretching and moaning in satisfaction as his back popped. Trees are never good to sleep against, he knew that from years of experience, so it’s a mystery on why he did it tonight. He was alone. He peaked his eyes open, it was like he was trying to lift one-hundred pounds with his eyelid. They needed water soon, even his eyes were parched-

_ Wait. . . _

He was  _ alone _ ?!

Daryl jumped up, wide awake.

“Beth! Sophia! Judith!” he called, over and over and over until his throat started to get scratchy.

He looked around, head whipping every direction, it’s amazing that he didn’t get a concussion. He soon calmed down enough to look for tracks, finding two sets, one small one and another smaller one next to it, walking together. It’s leading from where Judith, Sophia, and Beth were sitting, so it has to be them. They were going in the direction of where the map said Terminus is.

“God _ damnit _ , Beth!” Daryl hiss to himself, since he was  _ alone _ .

He followed the trail for about an hour, eventually running into a gate, a large building towering behind it. Chain link with small barbed wire over the top, should be easy to climb over if need be. Daryl wouldn’t climb over a fence into an unknown area though, he isn’t a cute, spit-bubble filled baby or a strawberry blonde with a bobcut or even not a teenager that has  _ no fucking clue what she’s doing out here _ .

Daryl kept away from the fence until he ducked into the woods, prowling around the perimeter and peaking through the overgrown brush and vines that have tangled themselves in the fence.

Leaves crunched behind him.

Daryl whipped around, seeing a shadow on the slushy snow. The shadow moved out from the tree it was standing behind and into the warm light of the sun. Daryl lowered his crossbow, pointing it just above his toe and leaning back to his full height.

“Carol?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, another cliff. . . Hanger. . . Hey wait why do I keep doing these-
> 
> Yo! Hey! It's the wingman herself, Carol! What a fuckin' suprise (I am so uncreative I swear to God).
> 
> So, in place of doing the, "comments I made that are unfunny but really fucking funny to me," I decided to share a bit on the actual original (technically it's the V. 2 since I made a copy of the original to move to a different account but nevermind that it sounds less cool) document and how I split everything up because that's fun right?
> 
> So, I split up my document by writing page "da-de-da-da", for example, this one was ended with, "page 37," it just keeps everything organized. Google also has that thing now where on the far top left side of the document, you can click this little box thing with three sideways "i's" and jump to any point in the document by a click of the button, so I could automatically jump from part 21 to part 3 which is cool.
> 
> This one wasn't just labeled page 37 though, it also had, "o shit that Terminus plot line be lookin’ purdy fine," I'm a riot I know. This also honestly helps me keep track of what happens in each chapter without having to read through them.
> 
> So I've made a list of some of my favorites for you to read though. :D  
> Page 1 Sophi :), Page 5 Being locked in a room all night trope, Page 6 I’M GONNA FUCKING DIE WITH THIS IDIOT, SRRY MERLE, Page 7 fuck you, Page 9 idk talk about nomads or some shit, Page 10 yay, prison time, Page 16 👶, Page 18 start of the romance ;), Page 20 Michonnnnnne, Page 21 A MOMENT/OOP UNDIES PT. 1, and Page 31 OOP UNDIES PT. 2.
> 
> Also, a comment because I couldn't leave it alone :):):):):):):):):):):):)
> 
> "They were going in the direction of where the map said Terminus is." I put a link down, "https://www.memesmonkey.com/images/memesmonkey/84/84b17428b9c597097060ba33aa98ef6c.jpeg"
> 
> Okay have a nice day/night bye💋


	38. Shooty Shooty Bang Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horrible, horrible cannibals.

Daryl ran over and hugged the life out of Carol, taking her off of her feet. She laughed and hugged him back as Tyrese came out from behind her.

“Me and Ty, we got split up together,” Carol said. “I couldn’t find Sophia.”

Daryl felt immensely proud of himself before he realized how stupid that was.

“I got her, well, had. They’s in there,” Daryl explained, pointing to Terminus. “Beth took off with Judy and Sophia.” 

Carol squeezed her hand into a fist briefly before taking a breath. “Hershel, Maggie, Carl, and Sasha, we met with them on the road, they said they would go in and check it out before getting us. That was yesterday, I was just getting ready to go in.”

Daryl shook his head. “Don’t go in, got a bad feeling.”

Carol nodded, agreeing. “It’s too good to be true.”

Daryl watched the chain with uncertainty, squinting as he saw movement through the bush ridden fence. Daryl grabbed Carol’s arm and motioned to Tyresse, running behind a patch of five trees. A man was patrolling, passing by where they were sitting just seconds before. They inched out, Daryl first, then Carol, then Tyreese.

“Did cha’ see anyone else?” Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him, sympathetic. She knew what he was asking for.

She shook her head, “no, I didn’t see Michonne either. Don’t give up hope, Pookie, he’s out there.”

Daryl looked down at the ground, adjusting his crossbow on his shoulder.

“Don’t got no  _ hope _ anyway,” he hissed, going up to the fence to peek through it. “Hope never done no good fer’ me.”

“You have to hope,” Tyrese said, coming up to Daryl’s left as Carol took his right, “if you don’t hope, are you really living?”

_ Living, it all comes full circle, huh _ ?

They worked out a plan: Daryl and Carol’ll infiltrate Terminus and Tyreese will stay behind, protecting their escape route. They’ll shoot if they have to, but only if they have to. Daryl motioned with his hand to start going forward and Carol nodded, adjusting her assault rifle so it rested in her hands better. 

They skittered in, taking cover behind a big, long, oblong propane tank. No one was around, it was deathly silent. Daryl felt butterflies well up in his stomach, making him dart his eyes around another time before he nodded at Carol. She nodded back at Daryl, showing him a thumbs up; it’s clear on her side. So they ran into the building, the heavy door squeaking sharply as Daryl eased it closed behind them. Carol held her assault rifle high, whipping it around the room to shoot anyone if she had to.

The room had writing on the walls in black Sharpy, thick and rough like chicken-scratch. Tons of candles laid lit on the floor, formed in circles around groups of items. Teddy bears, shoes, books, glasses, watches, all personal artifacts in piles with the word “R.I.P” scrawled onto the ground in Sharpy again. There were shelves in intricate shapes made out of metal wire in random parts of the room with more personal artifacts on them, “R.I.P” also written in front with lit candles around it too.

“What the fuck,” Carol muttered, leaning over each pile of items to peer in.

“Dunno,” Daryl answered distracidly, looking at the writing on the walls.

“ _ WE SHOULDN’T HAVE PUT THE MAPS UP _ ,” caught Daryl’s eye, it was the most common phrase on the wall and it sent a shiver down his spine. “ _ WE ASK FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS, LORD _ ,” also made Daryl look twice.

_ What the hell is this place _ ?

“Daryl,” Carol called softly, motioning for Daryl to come over.

She was pointing outside the door she had cracked open. It was another room, only lit by the natural light filtering through the small windows. There were items everywhere, strewn across plastic tables. The two went in, shuffling through and looking at the mass of junk. Daryl paused on one, though, seeing an old-timey pocket watch. Daryl picked it up, turning it over to find, “ _ Greene _ ,” engraved into the back. Daryl’s breath caught in his throat.

_ It could just be a coincidence. Greene is a semi-common last name, right _ ?

Daryl pocketed the watch, also taking the large amount of guns in the tables by snatching an athletic bag that was nearby and filling it to the brim with weapons- pistols, automatics, handguns, semi-automatics, shotguns, knives, pocket knives, he even found a hatchet and a machete.

Something itchy was tossed over his head and he jumped, fighting with the thing before hearing Carol snort behind him.

“It’s your poncho, you scaredy-cat,” Carol laughed.

Daryl glared at her. “Fuck off.”

Carol opened her mouth to retort but she was cut off by a group of screams, maybe six or five people. Carol and Daryl snapped back to the mission at hand, crouching and going to the door at the end of the narrow room, opening it. In front of them were ten people, seven were crouching over what looked to be a metal trough, shiny and sparkly clean, one was slouched onto the trough and the other six were looking forward, whimpering and shaking. Two were behind them, one man had a metal bat and the other had a knife, both covered in blood; they wore plastic sheets, facemasks, and gloves too. Another man came in and stood in front of them on the other side of the trough, wearing normal clothing, notepad out with a pencil. The man with the bat swung it into the head of a blond man, knocking him forward as the other grabbed the man’s hair and-  _ oh Jesus Christ _ . He cut his throat. The man gagged and collapsed over the side of the trough.

The other people cried, but they didn’t scream like last time. The man with the bat went to swing again, but the man in front of him stopped him.

“Bullet count,” he said, snapping.

The man lowered his bat.

“Shit, sorry, I dunno. It was my first time,” he said.

The other man with the knife answered the question, “forty-nine.”

The man in normal clothes wrote it down, turning to address Bat. “Once you get done with this,” he said, laying his hand out flat and motioning with his hand in a circle, like  _ whatever was happening here _ was nothing more than a nuisance and not a weird, sacrificial ritual to the pig lords, “you need to go to your post and count the shells, okay?”

Bat nodded and Knife tapped his knife on his thigh.

“Alright, wrap this up quick, we have fourteen more,” the normal clothed man said.

Bat raised his bat to swing down on the dark haired man in front of him but the man spoke again.

“Oh yeah,” he walked over to the man they were going to hit, taking the gag out of his mouth, “I know you have a bigger group and a place to stay since you’re not starving and all. So let’s make this easy, tell me where you all come from.”

“I’m not telling you  _ shit _ ,” the man said, spitting at the normally clothed man.

The man kneeling sounded oddly like Glenn- wait.  _ Oh. Fuck. No _ .

Daryl flicked his eyes to Carol and she wore the same look, pure aggression, the need to kill these fuckers. They don’t know who the  _ fuck  _ they’re dealing with. Daryl held up five fingers, counting down to when they would strike.

The man wiped the spit off of his cheek with a grimace. “Tell me or else the kids get to be alive when we skin them,” the man said.

Four fingers.

“Fuck you.”

Three fingers.

“At least tell me if this is all of you.”

Two fingers.

“You’re  _ not  _ going to get away with this.”

One finger.

“Great talk,” the man said, smiling as he put the gag back in, patting Glenn’s cheek. The man stood back up. “You guys have to hurry this up, we’re on a tight schedule.”

Bat raised his bat again but he didn’t get far, a bolt protruded from his eye suddenly and he dropped to the floor like a bag of bricks. Knife stood in shock but that look got wiped off of his face as he got shot in the temple by Carol, face falling as he dropped as well, landing on one of the people who was kneeling. _ It was Shane _ , his mind helpfully provided Daryl with.

Daryl and Carol jumped out from behind a shelf that was in front of their door and Carol shot the normally dressed man in the kneecap with frightening accuracy. The man shouted in pain as Daryl and Carol rushed to their friends (minus Shane), cutting the bonds that were holding their wrists behind their backs. Daryl shoved Knife off of Shane’s back and cut the zip tie that held his wrists, holding his hand out of Shane to take. Shane looked him in the eyes with a shine, a shine of astonishment. Shane took Daryl’s offered hand.

Shane was there, so was Glenn, Sasha, Tomas ( _ he was alive _ ?), and a big burly redhead who was looking down at Daryl with suspicion. The redhead went over to the man who was on the floor, holding his destroyed knee. The redhead shot the man with a gun from the man’s own belt.

“They took us out of a shipping container out there,” Glenn said, out of breath from his adrenaline as he pointed to the door across the room. “The rest of us here are in there.”

They rushed out of the room, jumping back when their feet got shot at. Sasha shot at the man, hitting him in the shoulder. They weaved around buildings, shooting anyone who threatened them. There was banging on the fences behind a pile of shipping containers. Walkers were chewing on the fence, their black, rotting teeth gnawing and snapping off when they bit too hard. Daryl grimaced.

“In here!” Shane shouted, sprinting up to a red shipping container.

Daryl backed him away from the padlock that locked the door shut and hit the lock with the butt of his crossbow, one, two, three, four, five, six times before it made a loud crack and clattered to the ground. Daryl put his crossbow on the ground and, using both hands, pulled the door open. It was really fucking heavy.

“Abraham?” a woman questioned. She had long, dark hair tied into a pony-tail and she was wearing a tanktop.

The redhead-  _ Abraham _ \- pushed past Daryl, hugging the woman.

“Daryl!” came two yells.

There was a flash of blonde hair as Beth and Sophia came barreling towards Daryl, hugging him tightly.

“Ugh!” Daryl grunted as they squeezed him tight. “Hey, ‘s okay,” he wheezed out.

Sophia was crying and Beth was apologizing over and over again, trying to explain herself through her choking sobs and tears.

“Momma!” Sophia jumped for joy as she saw her mom lingering behind Daryl. The woman- such a great person- was giving the two girls and Daryl time to say hi before she joined in. 

Mother and daughter, it was a beautiful reunion. A baby’s cry came from a dark corner of the container and a stout man came into the light with Judith in his hands, arms locked out straight.

“Your child seems to have defecated. Or she needs sustenance,” he said, holding Judith out to anyone near him.

Daryl rushed over, cradling Judith and shushing her. She quieted down damn near immediately, looking up at Daryl with her eyes squinting and her top lip tucked under her bottom.

“Hey, Lil’ Asskicker,” Daryl cooed, adjusting her so her head rested more comfortably in his elbow, “are ya’ gettin’ hungry? I know, we can getcha sum’ squirrel after, but ya’ gotta be quiet right now.”

She looked like she understood, but that was Daryl probably just wishfully thinking. She did stay quiet though, so she must have understood on some level.

“You’re a great dad,” Carl said quietly.

Daryl jumped, “fuckin’- geezy ya’ can walk quiet as hell now.”

Carl popped a small, hesitant smile but it fell quickly. “Did you see my dad? My mom?”

Daryl looked at the ground, frowning deep. He swallowed thickly before putting his face in Judith’s small hairs, breathing in. “Naw, not yer’ dad. Saw yer’ mom go down at the prison, sorry, kid,” Daryl said, slowly laying a hand on the child’s shoulder.

Carl nodded, looking up at the sky, trying to look like he had everything in check when he very obviously didn’t. Daryl crouched down, pulling Carl towards him to hug.

“Know what it’s like,” Daryl said, “lost my mum in a fire. Was five. I get it.”

Carl sniffed, nodding, breathing deep and controlled. It was quiet for a bit before gunshots rang out and there was a clatter of the fences falling. It broke the silence, making everyone remember what they were doing here. The group sprung into action, running out from the container, shooting the coming walkers that got too close for comfort. Daryl tossed his handgun at Carl, going to cradle Judith’s head to his chest instead of holding a gun. Carl started firing as well, shooting walkers that were in front of them, blocking the way.

They swerved into the building, running past the metal trough and five bodies, running past the tables of things and into the Room of Regrets. They trampled over the candles and objects in the rush to get out, leaving the room a mess. Tyreese was waiting for them, as planned. He tossed a blanket over the barbed wire on the top of the fence and everyone climbed over. Daryl handed Judith to Carol and got over himself.

They ran for ages, following the road until they couldn’t hear the gunshots or smell the rot from the walkers. Night was falling by then and everyone collapsed in exhaustion. Judith cried and Daryl quickly shushed her.

“Anyone got diapers?” Daryl asked, it was half a joke and half serious.

Carol opened up her own bag, showing him wipes, diapers and baby food galore. Carol weakly smiled down at him when he looked at her: pure amazement.

“They had a lot of baby things in that room,” she said, handing Daryl the bag.

Judith was content after she got her diaper changed and she got fed. She fell asleep on Daryl’s chest as he stood, rocking her gently. The girl that had known Abraham started a fire, keeping it small as everyone settled around it.

“This is Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene,” Glenn said, pointing to each. “Eugene knows a cure, they’re going to D.C., I thought that we would have a good chance there.”

People in the group nodded, some saying small “hello”’s. Glenn looked expectantly at Daryl, actually, everyone did, even Shane. Daryl clenched his jaw.

“They help ya’?” he asked and Glenn nodded. “They’s friend of yer’s, they’s a friend of us.”

Everyone nodded again and everyone’s shoulders dropped, not as tense any longer.

_ Did they really value Daryl’s opinion that much _ ?

Carol poked at an ember that fell out of the fire with a stick as Daryl sat down next to her, careful to not jostle the sleeping Judith too much.

“You’re Rick’s right-hand-man,” Carol said, like that explained everything.

It kind of did when Daryl thought about it harder.

“What do we do next?” Andrea asked, arm around Amy’s shoulders.

They looked at Daryl once again. He watched the flames dance, like a phoenix in front of his eyes. He looked up, determination setting in.

_ They  _ believe  _ in you _ .

“We keep walkin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!
> 
> I'm really happy with this part, hope you guys liked it as well! Poor Dary. . . Poor Carl. . . Poor everyone. . .
> 
> Update on the other fic: I have a lot of ideas and I've been working on it for a while or, should I say, them. I have eight different versions and each one is more than seven pages long hhhhhh-  
> I've come to the conclusion that I'll be using version seven and it's a really dark, like, it tackles some stuff. It's at eleven pages so far and it's just getting started. I'll make it a bit lighter later on, but it'll be much darker than this one. I'm very excited to share it!
> 
> P.S. Thank you all so much for the support! It's crazy. I never thought that this crappy story would grow to this size with both length and the amount of people who enjoy it.


	39. Wow, Leading Sucks Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl leads. Everyone is sad. Hershel is old lol.

Daryl kept hold of Judith constantly, keeping her wrapped up on his chest. Daryl  _ loves  _ this little girl. He  _ loves  _ her. Beth’s apologized so much that, at this point, Daryl runs away whenever he sees her. Daryl doesn’t know what to think of Abraham, Rosita, or Eugene yet. They’re  _ intense _ , that’s a nice word for it. Abraham is a great fighter, Rosita is too and she’s also very resourceful, and Eugene is. . . There. Hershel is doing well, so is everyone else present. Michonne isn’t there, neither is Tara, any of the Woodbury residents, all of the ex-inmate group besides Tomas, Allen, Ben, or Rick. 

_ Rick _ . . .

Daryl’s trying to keep it together, he’s doing what Rick would want: leading the group. They’re sticking to the roads, staying in a circular formation with the kids and elder on the inside, moving out to the adults on the outside. Carol, Maggie, Glenn, and Shane are often next to him, either asking questions (all that Shane does, “why’re we going here?” “Why’re we going there?” Good  _ god _ ) or giving emotional support. 

Daryl was peeing in the woods, everyone was waiting for him back on the road, Carl had Judith until Daryl got back. He zipped up his pants with a little hop and adjusted them. 

“Ed! Please!” came Carol’s voice from deeper in the trees.

“What are ya’ gonna do, bitch?!" Ed taunted.

_ That is not an acceptable volume _ .

Daryl weaved through the trees to the voices, finding Carol with Sophia behind her leg and Ed towering over them. Daryl had never seen Carol so. . .  _ Small  _ in a while. It was startling and infuriating. Ed looked like Pa, built like a barrel, face dark, frown deep, chest puffed in pride. Daryl felt a pit form in his stomach.

“Ed, don’t, you’re scaring Sophia,” Carol said quietly like she was afraid to be heard.

Ed narrowed his eyes, he heard. “You talkin’ back, whore?” Carol flinched and shut her mouth. Ed nodded. “Yea’, I fuckin’ thought so.”

Ed raised his hand, slapping Carol suddenly. Carol yelped and that was it. Daryl jumped out of the bushes, tackling Ed before he could slap Carol again. He straddled Ed’s stomach. Daryl was shaking in fear,  _ Ed is just like Pa _ . Daryl punched Ed’s cheek with a right hook, then a left, then his right, over and over and over again, Daryl swung. He felt like he was punching his father, but he doesn’t think it had that same sort of satisfaction. This was satisfying, sure, he was protecting the group, but he thinks that punching Dad would be a different kind of satisfaction.

Sophia was crying behind him, muffled by Carol’s shirt as they watched Daryl go to town, painting Ed’s face blue. His knuckles split and flares of pain shot up his hand and his arm with each hit. Daryl hit Ed once more and stopped, Ed’s head lolled to the side, his eyes already swelling shut. Daryl clamored off of him, glaring down at the pathetic man covered in dirt and his own blood.

“Ya’ get the  _ fuck _ outta ‘ere ‘fore I  _ make ya _ ’,” Daryl growled.

Ed sputtered, “I- wha- no- this ain’t  _ your  _ choice!”

“Rick ain’t ‘ere,” Daryl leaned down, getting moderately close to Ed, “but I am.”

Ed threw himself onto his feet, kicking up dirt when Daryl shoved him back. Daryl was still shaking in fear, it was nearly overwhelming, but the mixture of anger at Ed and determination he had for helping Carol and Sophia overpowered the fear, but it still showed. Ed latched onto that.

“You shakin’? Fuckin’ pussy ass _bitch_ ,” Ed hissed, taking a step forward.

Daryl stood his ground, growling and showing his teeth like a dog. He held his arms behind himself and out to his sides, protecting Carol and Sophia and putting himself between Ed and them. He would kill this motherfucker if he had to.

“Ya’ get the _fuck_ _outta_ _here_ ,” Daryl said again, slower, lower, more threateningly if possible.

He could point his crossbow at Ed, but that would leave Sophia and Carol more open, so Daryl stayed still. Ed took another step forward, though, so Daryl kicked out suddenly, sending Ed back to the ground. He advanced on the man.

“This is  _ my  _ family ‘n yer’ a danger ta’ my  _ kids _ ‘n my  _ family _ . If they knew what ya’ just did ta’ do ta’ Carol ‘n lil’ Sophia, they’d kick ya’ out faster than ya’ could even blink,” Daryl said with a snarl. Ed got back up again, stumbling when Daryl continued advancing. “Yer’ nothin’ but a sad excuse of a man that needs ta’ hurt people ya’ think are weaker than ya’ ta’ validate yer’ own existence. Yer’  _ nothin _ ’. Carol’s strong, even with ya’ over her. She’s worth sixty-thousand more of ya’. ‘N Sophia, she’s learnin’ ta’ take care of herself, she don’t need ya’ fer’  _ anythin _ ’.  _ Yer’ not needed _ . Ya’ was  _ never  _ needed.

“So’s ya’ better get the  _ fuck _ ‘way from my family.”

Daryl and Ed were far enough away from Sophia and Carol that Ed wouldn’t have enough time to run and hurt them without Daryl intercepting him, so Daryl pulled his crossbow down from his shoulder and pointed it at Ed. Ed scrambled to get up and ran. He wouldn’t last long out there, Daryl knew. Letting him go was more of a punishment than killing him on the spot.

Sophia came up behind him and hugged his waist. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Daryl hugged her back and nodded at Carol from over Sophia’s shoulder. Carol nodded back, tears in her eyes as the bravery that Carol had returned ten-fold. They returned to camp and no one asked about Ed. The group traveled for the rest of the day and settled down before night. Carol and Sophia went to bed early and Daryl recounted briefly what happened. No one had an issue with his decision.

“One less ass in a seat,” Abraham said, leaning back with his arm around Rosita’s shoulders.

  
  


They found a store the next day and found blankets and some Tylenol. They basked in the comfort of the copious amounts of blankets for the night. It was a shame they could only take two.

Daryl had to make another big decision the next day: should they follow the roads more or go off into the woods. Daryl chose the road and everyone nodded, no one said it was a bad idea. Maybe it’s hope that Rick, Tara, and Michonne are out there that made Daryl choose to stick to the road.

Hershel stopped being able to move the next day, his ankle and knee were stiff from age, so they had to set up camp quickly and spend the day in a rundown gas station. It had a dead family in it, a mother, father, a child no more than twelve, and a baby, all malnourished. It looked like they got close to dying from starvation, but opted to shoot themselves. No one said anything when Daryl had to go outside with Judith.

  
  


They walked another mile at the ass-crack of dawn, no one said more than a few words. They had to veer off of the road because a herd cut them off. They got trapped when they skittered into the woods, there was a smaller, but still large herd in front of them. They got surrounded quickly. The children all had guns and knives, but they were still kept in the middle, Hershel as well. Judith was safely tucked into Daryl’s chest in her makeshift harness. The trees echoed with the gunshots, it made Daryl’s ears ring and Judith started crying.

“Fuck! There’s too many!” Shane yelled at Daryl, firing his shotgun and massacring a walker’s head.

“Fall back!” Daryl commanded, motioning his hand behind his head.

Everyone shimmied back until they couldn’t anymore, they were squeezed between a herd and a line of trees, like animals. Tomas was next to Daryl, he ran out of ammo in his pistol. So he took out his knife, hacking through any walkers near him. He threw a walker at Beth, making the blonde fall over, trapped under the walker and the sloshy ground. 

Maggie broke the circle and rushed over to her sister, sticking her knife in the walker and throwing it off of her, and glaring at the man responsible. 

He shrugged, glancing at the two girls. “Shit happens.”

Maggie scoffed, they were in too much of a pinch right now to argue. Maggie shot a walker that was getting too close from her position on the ground before pulling Beth up. 

There was a scream and tearing, Amy was bitten by a walker on the junction of her neck and shoulder. Another walker came over and gnawed on her wrist and another on her ankle. She fell to the ground and got swarmed, the walkers looking like blood-sucking mosquitoes. Andrea screamed, running over, breaking yet another hole in their circle. Daryl gritted his teeth as Andrea got swarmed as well, bitten first on her wrist and then on her cheek, her shrieks and the wet tearing of her flesh filling the air. Sasha and Tyreese killed the mass of walkers that were eating the two sisters, but it was much too late.

Then, a slice and a loud shot from a strong gun and a walker practically exploded right in front of Rosita’s face. She shouted in surprise.

“Get back in a circle!” came a yell.

Rick, Tara, and Michonne marched out from behind the walkers, Michonne slicing through the walkers and Rick shooting them before abandoning his gun to stab with his knife. Tara mowed down ten walkers with an assault rifle, spraying and praying. Right now isn’t the time for Daryl to be glad Rick’s alive, that’ll come after. Daryl took out a pistol that was in his belt, flicking the safety off and firing at a walker that was coming up behind Michonne. She nodded at him and rushed off to help Abraham who was struggling with a few walkers with Eugene cowering behind him.

_ Fuckin’ pussy _ -

Daryl’s thoughts got cut off when he nearly got knocked over. Judith cried harder and  _ God that was not helping right now _ ! Daryl stumbled before getting his footing back, firing at the walker. The bullet clipped the thing’s neck and made its head hang to the side a bit, but it didn’t slow down. Daryl was thinking about how he should lay over Judith to not hurt her but to also make sure the walker couldn’t get her, but that thought got cut off by Tara coming up behind the walker and smacking the back of its head with her gun, sending it to the ground before it could bite Daryl. She beat its head in until it was just a pile of vaguely brown slush mixed in with the melting snow. She offered her hand out to Daryl and he nodded, taking it.

She held out a fist and Daryl smirked, fist-bumping her.

There was one other walker and Tara looked between the walker and Daryl. Daryl held up his hand, shaking his head. He’ll take this one, she should check on the group. Tara nodded, smiling down at Judith. Daryl killed the walker with a knife to the head and Judith’s cries picked up briefly but quieted once Daryl started shushing her and hopping up and down a bit, like an awkward jig.

“Daryl,” Rick said softly, holding his arms open when Daryl whipped his head to look at his lover.

“Rick,” Daryl whispered before saying again, louder, “Rick!”

It was like one of those movies; Daryl bounded into Rick’s arms, careful to not crush little Judith on his chest, and smashed his lips onto Rick’s. Rick grunted in surprise (and a little bit of pain, their teeth clashed) but smiled, wrapping his arm around Daryl’s shoulder and the other around his waist, pulling Daryl into him. Daryl cupped Rick’s face and gripped his beard, pulling his face in closer.

“Oh God, oh God. Thought ya’ were dead, ‘m sorry, I didn’t look fer’ ya’, ‘m sorry,” Daryl blubbered onto Rick’s lips once they broke apart.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Rick said, putting his forehead on Daryl’s.

“Judith can eat squirrels. She luvs’ it,” Daryl sniffed, he needs to change the subject desperately.

Rick kissed the top of Judith’s head and the baby looked up, slobber running down her face with her whole hand shoved in her mouth. 

“Really?” Rick asked, his tone the kind that you would have when talking to a toddler about their day at daycare. “She’s such a big girl.”

Daryl chuckled breathlessly. “Yea’, she’s an asskicker that’s fer’ sure.”

“You!” came a growl to Daryl’s left. It was Maggie, she was stomping over to Tomas with a dark look, Beth holding her hand and trailing behind her, walker blood coating her. “You nearly  _ killed  _ my sister!”

Tomas was dismissive, shrugging. “Shit happens, girl.” He said it like he didn’t want to waste his breath on saying Maggie’s name.

Maggie’s jaw dropped. “How dare you!”

Hershel limped up from behind Maggie and Beth, being much slower than the two. He looked two seconds away from murdering Tomas. Daryl’s not going to stop him.

“Wait,” Rick said, rushing over to the four people, “what happened?”

“This man pushed a walker into Beth! He tried to kill her!” Maggie said, going back into a tirade, practically screaming at the man.

“Saw it too,” Daryl piped up, coming to stand next to Rick after he handed Judith to Carl. It felt right to be there. Rick turned his attention to Daryl with a cocked head. “Tossed a walker ‘way from himself onta’ Beth, said ‘shit happens.’”

Rick looked at Tomas with narrowed eyes. Tomas narrowed his eyes back, puffing his chest and holding his head high, challenging. Rick bared his teeth like a dog. Daryl brushed his shoulder on Rick’s when he got ready to fight, letting him know that he’s with him. 

Rick huffed. “Shane, handcuff him.”

Shane nodded, going behind Tomas and struggling to handcuff him as the man fought back.

“Stop,” Shane growled, “you’re only making this worse for yourself.”

Shane ended up getting the cuffs locked around Tomas’s wrists.

“He threw a walker on you?” Rick asked Beth, furrowing his brows in disbelief.

Beth nodded. “Yeah, I went down and Maggie came over to help, it left Amy open and she got bit, Andrea came over to her and she got bit too.”

Rick sighed, running a hand down his face before turning back to Tomas.

“Why?” Rick questioned.

Tomas leaned forward, challenging Rick once again. Daryl wrinkled his nose. “ _ Shit _ .  _ Happens _ .”

Rick snarled, looking disgusted as he glared at Tomas. Rick suddenly pulled out a machete from its sheath on his side, swinging it down and burying it in the top of Tomas’s head. Blood ran in rivets down the man’s forehead and it almost looked fake. Rick struggled to pull it out, but he did and Tomas fell onto the ground, dead. Rick turned and nodded at Beth, Maggie, and Hershel. They nodded back.

This was  _ Rick _ , their fearless leader.

Ric sheathed his machete and watched the body with a cold stare, then he looked around at the others saying, “we found a church, we have a priest there, Father Gabriel and another man, Bob, he used to be a medic in the military.”

“No way,” Glenn said, face lightening up significantly.

“Yes way. We can camp there for a while, but we should get moving.”

Everyone nodded and Daryl took Judith from Carl’s offered hands, the kid knew Daryl would want to carry her. He loaded her up onto his chest with the help of Beth and found Rick smiling softly at him. Rick looked utterly in love, but he looked okay with it, maybe even happy with it. Daryl nodded at Rick and Rick responded with his own. Daryl’s brain was still recovering from the whiplash he got when he saw Rick.

“Are we just gonna look past the diddly-damn fact that this motherfucker just killed that guy?” Abraham asked as everyone got ready to follow Rick, Daryl on his left and Carl trailing behind.

“Yes, we are,” Tara said, adjusting her assault rifle and knife as she walked past Abraham, patting his shoulder.

“I was under the impression that Mr. Dixon was leading us,” Eugene said.

Rick looked at Daryl with a brow raised and a smile on his face.

_ You lead the group _ ?

Daryl shrugged.  _ They were all looking at me _ .

Rick knew that Daryl wasn’t going to really admit to it, so he just smiled wider and brushed his hand on Daryl’s as if they didn’t smack face (quite literally) in front of everyone. Carol, ever-so the protector of both Rick and Daryl apparently, glared at the man.

“They’re  _ both _ our leaders,” she said, pointing at the _oh-so-offensive_ Eugene.

Eugene backed up closer to Abraham’s back. “It seems like that factoid was false.”

Abraham puffed out his chest to protect Eugene, but that act of defense was mistaken for slight aggression and everyone jumped to get ready to fight. There was a very obvious line between Abraham’s group and Rick’s and that line won’t be crossed anytime soon. Abraham backed down quickly, the number of glaring eyes focused on him was kind of scary.

They walked for the rest of the day and found a white church, three or so rows of small tombstones to the left of it. Rick whistled and the door rattled before opening slightly and a head popped out.

“Rick!” the man called, opening the door wider to let everyone inside.

The interior was lit up by loads of candles, five beds laid out on the ground by the small altar. Another man came out of a backroom dressed in a priest's outfit. Daryl whipped his crossbow up, aiming it at the man who jumped and held his hands up as high as they could go.

“Daryl, it’s okay,” Rick said, coming up behind Daryl to put his hand on Daryl’s, squeezing lightly and letting Daryl drop his crossbow. “That’s Father Gabrial, he’s the owner of this church. Father Gabrial, this is my group.”

“I. . . I got the room back there ready. It's more comfortable than out here. There’s a couch,” the man said, trying to appeal to the new-comers.

Rick nodded, patting his shoulder and making Gabrial jump again. “Thank you.” Rick turned back to the group. “Hershel, you should sleep on the couch, Beth, do you think you can stay with him? We’ll all stay out here.”

Beth nodded but Hershel spoke up, “you and Daryl should have it. Daryl, I know you haven’t slept this entire time; you’ve always been keeping watch. You two deserve to be with each other as well. We’ll watch Carl and Judith. We’re safe here.”

“We’re never safe,” Rick said, slight anger laced in his voice.

“We’re safe _ for now _ ,” Hershel amended. “What do y’all think?”

No one had any complaints about their sleeping arrangements and Rick looked at Daryl, seeing the deep, blue, and black bags under his eyes.

“Okay,” Rick sighed. “Tyreese, can you keep watch first, Shane second, and Carol third?”

All three nodded. Everyone was getting situated when Rick pulled Daryl into the backroom. It seemed like an office, a desk with a pen and papers piled up. Rick led Daryl to the maroon couch that was covered in a blue blanket. He went to lay under Daryl, but Daryl tutted.

“Naw, ‘m on bottom this time.”

Rick snorted, “you were on bottom last time.”

“Nah I wasn’t- oh.” Daryl had to think on that for a little bit before he realized that was an innuendo.

Daryl glared at Rick and Rick looked innocently up to the ceiling, humming a random tune. Daryl pulled Rick down on top of him, putting his face in Rick’s hair and breathing in.

“Missed ya’ so fuckin’ much,” Daryl murmured in Rick’s nest of curls, drawing random shapes on his back. “Wanna feel ya’, nothin’ between, just wanna lay ‘ere and feel ya’.”

Rick looked up at Daryl from his spot on his chest, smiling softly. “Okay.”

They got undressed and laid side by side on the couch, squished close together to be able to fit and to share as much space as they could. Their legs were twisted, looking like an octopus’s tentacles. Daryl wrapped his arms around Rick’s back, holding him close as Rick did the same. Daryl didn’t notice the tears until Rick’s warm thumb came up and whipped them off. Daryl opened his eyes to see Rick’s teary ones looking back.

“I missed you too,” Rick said, raw emotion on his face. “I thought you were all dead too, I hoped, Michonne kept on telling me that you all couldn’t have died, that you were all still out there and all we needed to do was find you. And then we found that herd and heard you all yelling and I just got so scared.”

Daryl nodded, it was cheesy, so undeniably so, but he kissed the tears that were leaking out of the corners of Rick’s eyes.

“I fuckin’ luv ya’. Luv’ ya’ so much. Luv’ ya’, luv’ the kids, luv’ Carol, luv’ Glenn, luv’ Maggie, luv’ Hershel, luv’ Beth, luv’ Sophi, luv’ all y’all ‘n I’ve never felt this way,” Daryl admitted, eyes flicking over Rick’s face. “I luv’ed Lori too, think it was gettin’ there. I couldn’t help her, I tried, was too slow ‘n now Judy won’t know her ma.”

Rick stopped breathing for a few seconds, closing his eyes and putting his head on Daryl’s. Sobs bubbled up from their throats and they held each other with rattling breaths and gulps of air. They shared space, shared the air in the world, and the time they had to be able to cry. They broke down  _ together _ , they cried for Lori and Amy and Andrea and Dale and T-Dog and Jacqui and any other lost lives  _ together _ , they slept side by side,  _ together _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, its Rick. . . RICK!
> 
> Yes, they're back! I had a lot of issues with this chapter. I got 2,621 words and it hated all of them. I wanted this to be dramatic and cute because, you know, it's an important cute scene. I hope this is okay, I'm not very happy with it but I don't know what I can change about it to make it better. Hope you guys liked it though.


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